'■«», 


W-HORNUNG 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


J 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 


^ 


The 
Shadow  of  a  Man 

By  E.  W.  Hornung 


7' 


,^W^' 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
New  York   1901 


Copyright,  1900,  by 
J.   B.   Lippincott   Co. 


Copyright,  1901,  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


TKOW  DIRECTORY 

PRINTING  AND  BOOKBINDING  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK 


PR 


CONTENTS 

Page 

I.  The  Belle  of  Toorak      ....  / 

//,  Injury 14 

HI.  Insult 28 

ly.  Bethune  of  the  Hall 59 

y.  A  Red  Herring ^8 

VI.  -Below  Zero 67 

VII.  A  Cavalier 84 

VIII.  The  Kind  of  Life      .     ....  97 

IX.  Pax  in  Bello 120 

X.  The  Truth  by  Inches     .     .     .     •  1 34 

XI.  Bethune  v.  Bethune 147 

XII.  An  Escapade 166 

XIII.  Blind  Man's  Block 180 

XIV.  His  Own  Coin 196 

XV.  The  Fact  of  the  Matter     .    .     .  206 


1.70211.8 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 


THE    BELLE    OF    TOORAK 

"  A  ND  you're  quite  sure  the  place  doesn't 
^^*  choke  you  off?" 

"  The  place?  Why,  I'd  marry  you  for  it 
alone.     It's  just  sweet !  " 

Of  course  it  was  nothing  of  the  kind. 
There  was  the  usual  galaxy  of  log  huts  ;  the 
biggest  and  best  of  them,  the  one  with  the 
verandah  in  which  the  pair  were  sitting, 
was  far  from  meriting  the  name  of  house 
which  courtesy  extended  to  it.  These 
huts  had  the  inevitable  roofs  of  galvanised 
iron;  these  roofs  duly  expanded  in  the 
heat,  and  made  the  little  tin  thunder  that 
dwellers  beneath  them  grow  weary  of 
hearing,  the  warm  world  over.  There 
were  a  few  pine-trees  between  the  build- 

I 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

ings,  and  the  white  pahngs  of  a  well 
among  the  pines,  and  in  the  upper  spaces 
a  broken  but  persistent  horizon  of  salt- 
bush  plains  burning  into  the  blinding  blue. 
In  the  Riverina  you  cannot  escape  these 
features :  you  may  have  more  pine-trees 
and  less  salt-bush ;  you  may  even  get  blue- 
bush  and  cotton-bush,  and  an  occasional 
mallee  forest ;  but  the  plains  will  recur, 
and  the  pines  will  mitigate  the  plains,  and 
the  dazzle  and  the  scent  of  them  shall 
haunt  you  evermore,  with  that  sound  of 
the  hot  complaining  roofs,  and  the  taste 
of  tea  from  a  pannikin  and  water  from  a 
water-bag.  These  rude  refinements  were 
delights  still  in  store  for  Moya  Bethune, 
who  saw  the  bush  as  yet  from  a  comfort- 
able chair  upon  a  cool  verandah,  and  could 
sing  its  praises  with  a  clear  conscience. 
Indeed,  a  real  enthusiasm  glistened  in  her 
eyes.  And  the  eyes  of  Moya  happened 
to  be  her  chief  perfection.  But  for  once 
Rigden  was  not  looking  into  them,  and 
his  own  were  fixed  in  thought. 

"  There's  the  charm  of  novelty,"  he  said. 
"  That  I  can  understand." 

2 


The  Belle  of  Toorak 

"  If  you  knew  how  I  revel  in  it — after 
Melbourne !  " 

"  Yes,  two  days  after !  "  said  he.  "  But 
what  about  weeks,  and  months,  and  years  ? 
Years  of  this  verandah  and  those  few 
pines !  " 

"  We  could  cover  in  part  of  the  verandah 
with  trellis-work  and  creepers.  They  would 
grow  like  wildfire  in  this  heat,  and  I'm  sure 
the  owners  wouldn't  mind." 

"  I  should  have  to  ask  them.  I  should 
like  to  grow  them  inside  as  well,  to  hide  the 
papers." 

"  There  are  such  things  as  pictures." 

"  They  would  make  the  furniture  look 
worse." 

"  And  there's  such  a  thing  as  cretonne ; 
and  I'm  promised  a  piano ;  and  there  isn't 
so  much  of  their  furniture  as  to  leave  no 
room  for  a  few  of  our  very  own  things. 
Besides,  there's  lots  more  they  couldn't 
possibly  object  to.  Curtains.  Mantel- 
borders.  I'm  getting  ideas.  You  won't 
know  the  place  when  I've  had  it  in  hand  a 
week.     Shall  you  mind?" 

He  did  not  hear  the  question. 

3 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  I  don't  know  it  as  it  is,"  he  said ;  and 
indeed  for  Rigden  it  was  transformation 
enough  to  see  Moya  Bethune  there  in  the 
delicious  flesh,  her  snowy  frock  glimmering 
coolly  in  the  hot  verandah,  her  fine  eyes 
shining  through  the  dust  of  it  like  the  gems 
they  were. 

His  face  said  as  much  in  the  better  lan- 
guage which  needs  no  words. 

"Then  what's  depressing  you?"  asked 
Moya  brightly. 

"  I  dread  the  life  for  you." 

"But  why?" 

"  I've  been  so  utterly  bored  by  it  myself." 

Her  hand  slid  into  his. 

"  Then  you  never  will  be  again,"  she 
whispered,  with  a  touching  confidence. 

"  No,  not  on  my  own  account ;  of  course 
not,"  said  Rigden,     "  If  only " 

And  he  sighed. 

"If  only  what?" 

For  he  had  stopped  short. 

"  If  only  you  don't  think  better  of  all  this 
— and  of  me !  " 

The  girl  withdrew  her  hand,  and  for  a 
moment  regarded  Rigden  critically,  as  he 

4 


The  Belle  of  Toorak 

leant  forward  in  his  chair  and  she  leant  back 
in  hers.  She  did  not  care  for  apologetic 
love-making,  and  she  had  met  with  more 
kinds  than  one  in  her  day.  Rigden  had 
not  apologised  when  he  proposed  to  her  the 
very  week  they  met  (last  Cup-week),  and, 
what  was  more  to  his  credit,  had  refused  to 
apologise  to  her  rather  formidable  family 
for  so  doing.  Whereupon  they  were  en- 
gaged, and  all  her  world  wondered.  No 
more  Government  House — no  more  parties 
and  picnics — but  "  one  long  picnic  instead," 
as  her  brother  Theodore  had  once  remarked 
before  Moya,  with  that  brutal  frankness 
which  lent  a  certain  piquancy  to  the  family 
life  of  the  Bethunes.  And  the  mere  thought 
of  her  brother  accounted  for  so  much  in  her 
mind,  that  Moya  was  leaning  forward  again 
in  a  moment,  and  her  firm  little  hand  was 
back  in  its  place. 

"  I  believe  it's  Theodore ! "  she  cried 
suspiciously. 

"  I — I  don't  understand,"  he  said,  telling 
the  untruth  badly. 

"  You  do !  He's  been  saying  something. 
But  you  mustn't  mind  what  Theodore  says ; 

5 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

he's  not  to  be  taken  seriously.  Oh,  how  I 
wish  I  could  have  come  up  alone !  "  cried 
Moya,  with  fine  inconsistency,  in  the  same 
breath.  "  But  next  time,"  she  whispered, 
"  I  will !  " 

"  Not  quite  alone,"  he  answered.  And 
his  tone  was  satisfactory  at  last.  And  the 
least  little  wisp  of  a  cloud  between  them 
seemed  dispersed  and  melted  for  ever  and 
a  day. 

For  Moya  was  quite  in  love  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life,  though  more  than  once  be- 
fore she  had  been  within  measurable  dis- 
tance of  that  enviable  state.  This  enabled 
her  to  appreciate  her  present  peace  of  mind 
by  comparing  it  with  former  feelings  of  a 
less  convincing  character.  And  at  last 
there  was  no  doubt  about  the  matter.  She 
had  fallen  a  happy  victim  to  the  law  of  con- 
trasts. Society  favourite  and  city  belle, 
satiated  with  the  attractions  of  the  town, 
and  deadly  sick  of  the  same  sort  of  young 
man,  she  had  struck  her  flag  to  one  who 
might  have  swum  into  her  ken  from  an- 
other planet ;  for  the  real  bush  is  as  far  from 
Toorak  and  Hawthorn,  and  The  Block  in 

6 


The  Belle  of  Toorak 

Collins   Street,  as  it  is   from   Hyde  Park 
Corner. 

It  may  be  that  Moya  saw  both  bush  and 
bushman  in  the  same  rosy  light.  To  the 
impartial  eye  Rigden  was  merely  the  brick- 
red,  blue-eyed  type  of  Anglo-Saxon :  a 
transparent  character,  clean  of  body  and 
mind,  modest  but  independent,  easy-going 
in  most  things,  immovable  in  others.  But 
he  had  been  immovable  about  Moya,  whose 
family  at  its  worst  had  failed  to  frighten  or 
to  drive  him  back  one  inch.  She  could 
have  loved  him  for  that  alone ;  as  it  was  it 
settled  her;  for  Moya  was  of  age,  and  the 
family  had  forthwith  to  make  the  best  of 
her  betrothal. 

This  they  had  done  with  a  better  grace 
than  might  have  been  expected,  for  the 
Bethunes  had  fine  blood  in  them,  though 
some  of  its  virtue  had  been  strained  out  of 
this  particular  branch.  Moya  none  the  less 
continued  to  realise  the  disadvantages  of 
belonging  to  a  large  family  when  one 
wishes  to  form  a  family  of  two.  And  this 
reflection  inspired  her  next  remark  of  any 
possible  interest  to  the  world. 

7 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  Do  you  know,  dear,  I'm  quite  glad  you 
haven't  got  any  people  ?  " 

Rigden  smiled  a  little  strangely. 

"  You  know  what  I  mean !  "  she  cried. 

"  I  know,"  he  said.  And  the  smile  be- 
came his  own. 

"  Of  course  I  was  thinking  of  my  own 
people,"  explained  Moya.  "  They  can't  see 
beyond  Toorak — unless  there's  something 
going  on  at  Government  House.  And  I'm 
so  tired  of  it  all — wouldn't  settle  there 
now  if  they  paid  me.  So  we're  out  of 
touch.  Of  course  I  would  have  loved  any 
one  belonging  to  you ;  but  they  mightn't 
have  thought  so  much  of  me." 

If  she  was  fishing  it  was  an  unsuccess- 
ful cast.  Rigden  had  grown  too  grave 
to  make  pretty  speeches  even  to  his  be- 
trothed. 

"  I  wish  you  had  known  my  mother," 
was  all  he  said. 

"  So  do  I,  dear,  and  your  father  too." 

"  Ah !     I  never  knew  him  myself." 

"  Tell  me  about  them,"  she  coaxed, 
holding  his  sunburnt  hand  in  one  of  hers, 
and  stroking  it  with  the  other.     She  was 

8 


The  Belle  of  Toorak 

not  very  inquisitive  on  the  subject  herself. 
But  she  happened  to  have  heard  much  of  it 
at  home,  and  it  was  disagreeable  not  to  be 
in  a  position  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of 
others.  She  was  scarcely  put  in  that  posi- 
tion now. 

"  They  came  out  in  the  early  days,"  said 
Rigden,  "  both  of  the  colony  and  of  their 
own  married  life.  Yet  already  these  were 
numbered,  and  I  was  born  an  orphan.  But 
my  dear  mother  lived  to  make  a  man  of 
me:  she  was  the  proudest  and  the  poorest 
little  woman  in  the  colony;  and  in  point 
of  fact  (if  this  matters  to  you)  she  was  not 
badly  connected  at  home." 

Moya  said  that  it  didn't  matter  to  her 
one  bit ;  and  was  unaware  of  any  insincerity 
in  the  denial. 

"  I  don't  tell  you  what  her  name  was," 
continued  Rigden.  "  I  would  if  you  in- 
sisted. But  I  hate  the  sound  of  it  myself, 
for  they  treated  her  very  badly  on  her  mar- 
riage, and  we  never  used  to  mention  them 
from  one  year's  end  to  another." 

Moya  pressed  his  hand,  but  not  the 
point,  though  she  was  sorely  tempted  to 

9 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

do  that  too.  She  had  even  a  sense  of  irri- 
tation at  his  caring  to  hide  anything  from 
her,  but  she  was  quick  to  see  the  unworthi- 
ness  of  this  sentiment,  and  quicker  to  feel 
a  remorse  which  demanded  some  sort  of 
expression  in  order  to  restore  complete 
self-approval.  Yet  she  would  not  confess 
what  had  been  (and  still  lingered)  in  her 
mind.  So  she  fretted  about  the  trifle  in 
your  true  lover's  fashion,  and  was  silent 
until  she  hit  upon  a  compromise. 

"  You  know — if  only  anybody  could ! — 
how  I  would  make  up  to  you  for  all  that 
you  have  lost,  dearest.  But  nobody  can. 
And  I  am  full  of  the  most  diabolical  faults 
— you  can't  imagine !  " 

And  now  she  was  all  sincerity.  But 
Rigden  laughed  outright. 

"  Tell  me  some  of  them,"  said  he. 

Moya  hesitated ;  and  did  not  confess  her 
innate  curiosity  after  all.  She  was  still 
much  too  conscious  of  that  blemish. 

"  I  have  a  horrible  temper,"  she  said  at 
length. 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  Ask  Theodore." 

10 


The  Belle  of  Toorak 

"  I  certainly  shouldn't  believe  him." 

"  Then  wait  and  see." 

"  I  will ;  and  when  I  see  it  I'll  show  you 
what  a  real  temper  is  like." 

"  Then " 

"Yes?" 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I've  had  more  atten- 
tion than  I  deserve.  So  I  suppose  you 
might  call  me  unreasonable — exacting — in 
fact,  selfish !  " 

This  was  more  vital ;  hence  the  hesitation 
on  his  part. 

"  When  I  do,"  said  Rigden,  solemnly, 
"  you  may  send  me  about  my  business." 

"  It  may  be  too  late." 

"  Then  we  won't  meet  our  troubles  half- 
way," cried  the  young  man,  with  virile 
common-sense.  "  Come !  We  love  each 
other;  that's  good  enough  to  go  on  with. 
And  we've  got  the  station  to  ourselves ; 
didn't  I  work  it  well?  So  don't  let's  talk 
through  our  necks  !  " 

The  bush  slang  made  the  girl  smile,  but 
excitement  had  overstrung  her  finer  nerves, 
and  neither  tone  nor  topic  could  she  change 
at  will. 

II 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  Shall  we  always  love  each  other,  dar- 
ling?" 

And  there  was  the  merest  film  of  moist- 
ure upon  the  lovely  eyes  that  were  fixed  so 
frankly  upon  his  own. 

"  I  can  only  answer  for  myself,"  he  said, 
catching  her  mood.  "  I  shall  love  you  till 
I  die." 

"Whatever  I  do?" 

"  Even  if  you  give  me  up." 

"  That's  the  one  thing  I  shall  never  do, 
dearest." 

"  God  bless  you  for  saying  it,  Moya.  If 
I  knew  what  I  have  ever  done  or  can  do 
to  deserve  you !  " 

"  Don't,  dear  .  .  .  you  little  dream  .  .  . 
but  you  will  know  me  by  and  by." 

"  Please  Heaven  !  " 

And  he  leant  and  kissed  her  with  all  his 
might. 

"  Meanwhile — let  us  promise  each  other 
— there  shall  be  no  clouds  between  us  while 
I  am  up  here  this  week !  " 

"  I'll  kiss  the  Book  on  that." 

"  No  shadows !  " 

"  My  dear  child,  why  should  there  be  ?  " 

12 


The  Belle  of  Toorak 


There's  Theodore- 


Bother  Theodore !  " 

And  then  there  are  all  those  faults  of 


mine." 


"  I  don't  believe  in  them.  But  if  I  did  it 
would  make  no  difference.  It's  not  your 
qualities  I'm  in  love  with,  Moya.  It's 
yourself — so  there's  an  end  of  it." 

And  an  end  there  was,  for  about  Rigden 
there  was  a  crisp  decisiveness  which  had 
the  eventual  advantage  of  a  nature  only  less 
decided  than  his  own.  But  it  was  strange 
that  those  should  have  been  the  last  words. 

Still  stranger  was  it,  as  they  sat  together 
in  a  silence  happier  than  their  happiest 
speech,  and  as  the  lowering  sun  laid  long 
shadows  at  their  feet,  that  one  of  these 
came  suddenly  between  them,  and  that  it 
was  not  the  shadow  of  pine-tree  or  veran- 
dah-post, but  of  a  man. 


13 


II 

INJURY 

T  T  was  not  Theodore,  however.  It  was  a 
man  whom  Moya  was  thankful  not  to 
have  seen  before.  Nor  was  the  face  more 
familiar  to  Rigden  himself,  or  less  unlovely 
between  the  iron-grey  bristles  that  wove  a 
wiry  mat  from  ear  to  ear,  over  a  small  head 
and  massive  jaws.  For  on  attracting  their 
attention  the  man  lifted  his  wideawake,  a 
trick  so  foreign  to  the  normal  bushman 
that  Rigden's  eyebrows  were  up  from  the 
beginning;  yet  he  carried  his  swag  as  a 
swag  should  be  carried;  the  outer  blanket 
was  the  orthodox  "  bluey,"  duly  faded ;  and 
the  long  and  lazy  stride  that  of  the  inveter- 
ate "  sundowner." 

"  Eureka  Station,   I  believe  ?  "  said  the 
fellow,  halting. 

"  That's  the  name,"  said  Rigden. 

"  And  are  you  the  boss  ?  " 
14 


Injury 

"  I  am." 

"  Then  Eureka  it  is ! "  cried  the  swag- 
man,  reheving  himself  of  his  swag,  and 
heartily  kicking  it  as  it  lay  where  he  let  it 
fall. 

"  But,"  said  Rigden,  smiling,  "  I  didn't 
say  I  had  any  work  for  you,  did  I  ?  " 

"  And  I  didn't  ask  for  any  work." 

"  Travellers'  rations,  eh?  You'll  have  to 
wait  till  my  storekeeper  comes  in.  Go  and 
camp  in  the  travellers'  hut." 

Instead  of  a  thank-you  the  man  smiled — 
but  only  slightly — and  shook  his  iron-grey 
head  —  but  almost  imperceptibly.  Moya 
perceived  it,  however,  and  could  not  im- 
agine why  Rigden  tolerated  a  demeanour 
which  had  struck  her  as  insolent  from  the 
very  first.  She  glanced  from  one  man  to 
the  other.  The  smile  broadened  on  the 
very  unpleasant  face  of  the  tramp,  making 
it  wholly  evil  in  the  lady's  eyes.  So  far  from 
dismissing  him,  however,  Rigden  rose. 

"  Excuse  me  a  few  minutes,"  he  said, 
not  only  briefly,  but  without  even  looking 
at  Moya ;  and  with  a  word  to  the  interloper 
he  led  the  way  to  the  station  store.     This 

15 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

was  one  of  the  many  independent  build- 
ings, and  not  the  least  substantial.  The 
tramp  followed  Rigden,  and  in  another  mo- 
ment a  particularly  solid  door  had  closed 
behind  the  pair. 

Moya  felt  at  once  hurt,  aggrieved,  and 
ashamed  of  her  readiness  to  entertain  any 
such  feelings.  But  shame  did  not  remove 
them.  It  was  their  first  day  together  for 
two  interminable  months,  and  the  after- 
noon was  to  have  been  their  very  very  own. 
That  was  the  recognised  arrangement,  and 
surely  it  was  not  too  much  to  expect  when 
one  had  come  five  hundred  miles  in  the 
heat  of  January  (most  of  them  by  coach) 
to  see  one's  fiance  in  one's  future  home. 
This  afternoon,  at  least,  they  might  have 
had  to  themselves.  It  should  have  been 
held  inviolate.  Yet  he  could  desert  her  for 
the  first  uncleanly  sundowner  who  came 
along !  After  first  telling  the  man  to  wait, 
he  must  needs  show  his  strength  by  giving 
in  and  attending  to  the  creature  himself, 
his  de"otion  by  leaving  her  alone  on  a 
verandah  without  another  soul  in  sight  or 
hearing!     It   might   only  be   for  the   few 

i6 


Injury 

minutes    mentioned    with    such    off-hand 
coolness.     The  sHght  was  just  the  same. 

Such  was  the  first  rush  of  this  young 
lady's  injured  feelings  and  too  readily  em- 
bittered thoughts.  They  were  more  bitter, 
however,  in  form  than  in  essence,  for  the 
notorious  temper  of  the  Australian  Be- 
thunes  was  seldom  permitted  a  perfectly 
direct  expression.  They  preferred  the  ob- 
lique ways  of  irony  and  sarcasm,  and  their 
minds  ran  in  those  curves.  A  little  bitter- 
ness was  in  the  blood,  and  Moya  could  not 
help  being  a  Bethune. 

But  she  had  finer  qualities  than  were  rife 
— or  at  all  events  conspicuous — in  the  rank 
and  file  of  her  distinguished  family.  She 
had  the  quality  of  essential  sweetness  which 
excited  their  humorous  contempt,  and  she 
was  miraculously  free  from  their  innate 
and  unparalleled  cynicism.  At  her  worst 
she  had  warm  feelings,  justly  balanced  by 
the  faculty  of  cold  expression.  And  at  her 
best  she  was  quick  to  see  her  faults  and  to 
deplore  them ;  a  candid  and  enthj^siastic 
friend ;  staunch  at  your  side,  sincere  to  your 
face,  loyal  at  all  costs  behind  your  back. 

17 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

It  was  this  loyalty  that  came  to  her  rescue 
now:  she  stood  suddenly  self-convicted  of 
a  whole  calendar  of  secret  crime  against  the 
man  whom  she  professed  to  love.  Did  she 
love  him?  Could  she  possibly  love  him, 
and  so  turn  on  him  in  an  instant,  even  in 
her  heart?  Oh,  yes,  yes!  She  was  a  little 
fool,  that  was  all ;  at  least  she  hoped  it  was 
all.  To  think  that  her  worst  faults  should 
hunt  her  up  on  the  very  heels  of  her  frank 
confession  of  them !  So  in  a  few  minutes 
sense  prevailed  over  sensibility.  And  for 
a  little  all  was  well. 

But  these  minutes  mounted  up  by  fives 
and  then  by  tens.  And  the  verandah  was 
now  filled  to  blindness  and  suflfocation  by 
the  sunken  sun.  And  there  sat  Moya 
Bethune,  the  admired  of  all  the  most  ad- 
mirable admirers  elsewhere,  baking  and 
blinking  in  solitary  martyrdom,  while,  with 
a  grim  and  wilful  obstinacy,  she  stoically 
waited  the  pleasure  of  a  back-block  over- 
seer who  preferred  a  disreputable  tramp's 
society  to  hers ! 

The  little  fool  in  her  was  uppermost  once 
more.     There  was  perhaps  some  provoca- 

i8 


Injury 

tion  now.  Yet  a  little  fool  it  indubitably 
was.  She  thought  of  freckles.  Let  them 
come.  They  would  be  his  fault.  Not  that 
he  would  care. 

Care ! 

And  her  short  lip  lifted  in  a  peculiar 
smile  ;  it  was  the  war-smile  of  the  Bethunes, 
and  not  beautiful  in  itself,  but  Moya  it 
touched  with  such  a  piquant  bitter-sweet- 
ness that  some  of  her  swains  would  anger 
her  for  that  very  look.  Her  teeth  were 
white  as  the  wing  of  the  sulphur-crested 
cockatoo,  and  that  look  showed  them  as  no 
other.  Then  there  was  the  glitter  it  put 
into  her  eyes :  they  were  often  lovelier,  but 
never  quite  so  fine.  And  a  sweet  storm- 
light  turned  her  skin  from  pale  rose  to 
glowing  ivory,  and  the  short  lip  would 
tremble  one  moment  to  set  more  unmerci- 
fully the  next.  Even  so  that  those  who 
loved  and  admired  the  milder  Moya,  feared 
and  adored  her  thus. 

But  this  Moya  was  seldom  seen  in 
Toorak,  or,  for  that  matter,  anywhere  else ; 
and,  of  course,  it  was  never  to  show  itself 
any  more,  least  of  all  at  Eureka  Station. 

19 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

Yet  it  did  so  this  first,  this  very  afternoon, 
though  not  all  at  once. 

For  the  next  thing  that  happened  she 
took  better  than  all  that  had  gone  before, 
though  those  were  negative  offences,  and 
this  was  a  positive  affront. 

It  was  when  at  last  the  store  door  opened, 
and  Rigden  went  over  to  the  kitchen  for 
something  steaming  in  a  pannikin,  and  then 
to  his  room  for  something  else.  He  passed 
once  under  Moya's  nose,  and  once  close 
beside  her  chair,  but  on  each  occasion  with- 
out a  look  or  a  word. 

"  Something  is  worrying  him,"  she 
thought.     "  Poor  fellow  !  " 

And  for  a  space  her  heart  softened.  But 
it  was  no  space  to  speak  of;  intensified 
curiosity  cut  it  very  short. 

"  Who  can  the  horrid  man  be?  " 

The  question  paved  the  way  to  a  new 
grievance  and  a  new  resolve. 

"  He  ought  to  have  told  me.  But  he 
shall !  " 

Meanwhile  the  dividing  door  was  once 
more  shut ;  and  now  the  better  part  of  an 
hour  had  passed;  and  the  only  woman  on 

20 


Injury 

the  station  (she  might  remain  the  only 
woman)  had  carried  tea  through  the  veran- 
dah and  advised  Moya  to  go  indoors  and 
begin.  Moya  decHned.  But  no  one  ever 
sat  in  the  sun  up  there.  Moya  said  noth- 
ing; but  at  length  gave  so  short  an  answer 
to  so  natural  a  question  that  Mrs.  Duncan 
retreated  with  a  very  natural  impression, 
false  for  the  moment,  but  not  for  so  many 
moments  more. 

For  presently  through  the  handful  of 
pines,  red-stemmed  and  resinous  in  the  sun- 
set, there  came  the  jingle  of  bit  and  stirrup, 
to  interrupt  the  unworthiest  thoughts  in 
which  the  insulted  lady  had  yet  indulged. 
She  was  thinking  of  much  that  she  had 
missed  in  town  by  coming  up-country  in 
the  height  of  the  season ;  she  was  wishing 
herself  back  in  Toorak.  There  she  was 
somebody;  in  Toorak,  in  Melbourne,  they 
would  not  dare  to  treat  her  thus. 

Her  fate  was  full  of  irony.  There  she 
could  have  had  anybody,  and,  rightly  or 
wrongly,  she  was  aware  of  the  fact.  No 
other  girl  down  there — or  in  Melbourne, 
for   that    matter — was    at    once    a   society 

21 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

belle,  a  general  favourite,  and  a  Bethune. 
The  latter  titles  smacked  indeed  of  the  con- 
tradiction in  terms,  but  their  equal  truth 
merely  emphasised  the  altogether  excep- 
tional character  of  our  heroine.  That  she 
was  herself  aware  of  it  was  not  her  fault. 
She  had  heard  so  much  of  her  qualities  for 
so  many  years.  But  all  her  life  it  had  been 
impressed  upon  her  mind  that  the  Be- 
thunes,  as  a  family,  were  in  a  class  by  them- 
selves in  the  southern  hemisphere.  In 
moments  of  chagrin,  therefore,  it  was  only 
natural  that  Moya  should  aggravate  mat- 
ters by  remembering  that  she  also  was  a 
Bethune. 

A  Bethune  engaged  to  a  bushman  who 
dared  to  treat  her  thus ! 

Such  was  the  pith  and  point  of  these 
discreditable  reflections  when  the  jingle  of 
approaching  horse  put  a  sudden  end  to 
them.  Moya  looked  up,  expecting  to  see 
her  brother,  and  instinctively  donning  a 
mask.  She  forgot  it  was  in  the  buggy 
that  Theodore  had  been  got  out  of  the  way, 
and  it  was  with  sheer  relief  that  her  eyes 
lit  upon  a  sergeant  and  a  trooper  of  the 

22 


Injury 

New  South  Wales  mounted  police,  with 
fluttering  puggarees  and  twinkling  ac- 
coutrements, and  a  black  fellow  riding 
bareback  in  the  rear. 

They  reined  up  in  front  of  the  veran- 
dah. 

"  We  want  to  see  Mr.  Rigden,"  said  the 
sergeant,  touching  the  shiny  peak  of  his 
cap. 

"  Oh,  indeed !  " 

"Is  he  about?" 

Moya  would  not  say,  and  pretended  she 
could  not.  The  sudden  apparition  of  the 
police  had  filled  her  with  apprehensions  as 
wild  as  they  were  vague.  The  trooper  had 
turned  in  his  saddle  to  speak  to  the  black- 
fellow,  and  Moya  saw  the  great  Govern- 
ment revolver  at  his  hip.  Even  as  she 
hesitated,  however,  the  store  door  opened, 
and  Rigden  locked  it  behind  him  before 
sallying  forth  alone. 

"  Yes,  here  he  is !  "  exclaimed  Moya,  and 
sat  like  a  statue  in  her  chair.  Yet  the  pose 
of  the  statue  was  not  wholly  suggestive  of 
cold  indifference  and  utter  unconcern. 

"  Glad  to  find  you  in,  Mr.  Rigden,"  said 
23 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

the  sergeant.     "  We're  having  a  httle  bit 
of  sport,  for  once  in  a  way." 

"  I  congratulate  you.  What  sort  ?  "  said 
Rigden. 

"  A  man-hunt !  " 

And  there  were  volumes  of  past  bore- 
dom and  of  present  zest  in  the  sergeant's 
tone. 

"  That  so?  "  said  Rigden.  "  And  who's 
the  man  ?  " 

The  sergeant  glanced  at  the  young  lady. 
Rigden  did  the  same.  Their  wishes  with 
respect  to  her  were  only  too  obvious. 
Moya  took  the  fiercer  joy  in  disregarding 
them. 

"  I'd  like  to  have  a  word  with  you  in  the 
store,"  said  the  sergeant. 

"  No,  no !  "  said  Rigden  hastily.  "  Ser- 
geant Harkness — Miss  Bethune." 

It  was  a  cold  little  bow,  despite  this 
triumph. 

"  Miss  Bethune  will  be  interested,"  added 
Rigden  grimly.  "  And  she  won't  give  any- 
thing away." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Moya.  And  her 
tone  made  him  stare. 

24 


Injury 

Harkness  touched  his  horse  with  the 
spurs,  and  rode  up  close  to  the  verandah, 
on  which  Rigden  himself  now  stood. 

"  Fact  is,"  said  he,  "  it  oughtn't  to  get 
about  among  your  men,  or  it's  a  guinea  to 
a  gooseberry  they'll  go  harbouring  him. 
But  it's  a  joker  who  escaped  from  Darling- 
hurst  a  few  days  ago.  And  we've  tracked 
him  to  your  boundary — through  your 
horse-paddock  —  to  your  home-paddock 
gate ! " 

Rigden  glanced  at  Moya.  Her  eyes  were 
on  him.     He  knew  it  before  he  looked. 

"  Seen  anything  of  him  ?  "  asked  the  ser- 
geant inevitably. 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge.  What's  he 
like?" 

"  Oldish.  Stubby  beard.  Cropped  head, 
of  course.     Grey  as  a  coot." 

"  '  Height  5  ft.  ii  in.,'  "  supplemented  the 
trooper,  reading  from  a  paper  ;  "  '  hair  iron- 
grey,  brown  eyes,  large  thin  nose,  sallow 
complexion,  very  fierce-looking,  slight 
build,  but  is  a  well-made  man.'  " 

A  dead  silence  followed;  then  Rigden 
spoke.     Moya's  eyes  were  still  upon  him, 

25 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

burning  him,  but  he  spoke  without  tremor, 
and  with  no  more  hesitation  than  was 
natural  in  the  circumstances. 

"  No,"  he  said,  '*  I  have  seen  no  such 
man.     No  such  man  has  been  to  me !  " 

"  I  was  afraid  of  it,"  said  Harkness. 
"  Yet  we  tracked  him  to  the  boundary, 
every  yard,  and  we  got  on  his  tracks  again 
just  now  near  the  home-paddock  gate.  I 
bet  he's  camping  somewhere  within  a 
couple  of  miles ;  we  must  have  another 
look  while  it's  light.  Beastly  lot  of  sand 
you  have  from  the  home-paddock  gate 
right  up  to  the  house !  " 

"  We're  built  upon  a  sandhill,  you  see," 
said  Rigden,  with  a  wry  look  into  the  heavy 
yellow  yard :  "  one  track's  pretty  much  like 
another  in  here,  eh,  Billy?" 

The  black  tracker  shook  a  woolly  pate. 

"  Too  muchee  damn  allasame,"  said  he. 
"  Try  again  longa  gate." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  sergeant,  "  and  we'll 
bring  him  here  for  the  night  when  we  catch 
him.  You  could  lend  us  your  travellers' 
hut,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes." 

26 


Injury 

"So  long  then,  Mr.  Rigden.  Don't  be 
surprised  if  you  see  us  back  to  supper.  I 
feel  pretty  warm." 

And  the  sergeant  used  his  spurs  again, 
only  to  reign  up  suddenly  and  swing  round 
in  his  saddle. 

"  Been  about  the  place  most  of  the  after- 
noon?" he  shouted. 

"  All  the  afternoon,"  replied  Rigden ; 
"  between  the  store  and  this  verandah." 

_"  And  you've  had  no  travellers  at  all  ?  " 

"  Not  one." 

"  Well,  never  mind,"  cried  the  sergeant. 
"  You  shall  have  four  for  the  night." 

And  the  puggarees  fluttered,  and  the 
stirrup  irons  jingled,  out  of  sight  and  ear- 
shot, through  the  dark  still  pines,  and  so 
into  a  blood-red  sunset. 


27 


Ill 

INSULT 

DIGDEN  remained  a  minute  at  least 
*^  (Moya  knew  it  was  five)  gazing 
through  the  black  trees  into  the  red  light 
beyond.  That  was  so  characteristic  of  him 
and  his  behaviour!  Moya  caught  up  the 
Australasian  (at  hand  but  untouched  all  this 
time)  and  pretended  she  could  see  to  read. 
The  rustle  brought  Rigden  to  the  right 
about  at  last.  Moya  was  deep  in  illegible 
advertisements.  But  the  red  light  reached 
to  her  face. 

Rigden  came  slowly  to  her  side.  She 
took  no  notice  of  him.  His  chair  was  as 
he  had  pushed  it  back  an  age  ago ;  he 
drew  it  nearer  than  before,  and  sat  down. 
Nor  was  this  the  end  of  his  effrontery. 
"  Don't  touch  my  hand,  please !  " 
She  would  not  even  look  at  him.  In  a 
flash  his  face  was  slashed  with  lines,  so  deep 

28 


Insult 

you  might  have  looked  for  them  to  fill  with 
blood.  There  was  plenty  of  blood  beneath 
the  skin.     But  he  obeyed  her  promptly. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  were  present  just  now," 
he  remarked,  as  though  nothing  very  tragi- 
cal had  happened.  There  was  none  the 
less  an  underlying  note  of  tragedy  which 
Moya  entirely  misconstrued. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  she ;  and  her  voice 
nipped  like  a  black  frost. 

"  I  wanted  you  to  go,  you  know !  "  he 
reminded  her. 

"  Do  you  really  think  it  necessary  to  tell 
me  that  ? " 

All  this  time  she  was  back  in  her  now 
invisible  advertisements.  And  her  tone 
was  becoming  more  and  more  worthy  of  a 
Bethune. 

"  I  naturally  didn't  want  you  to  hear  me 
tell  a  lie,"  explained  Rigden,  with  incon- 
sistent honesty. 

"  On  the  contrary,  I'm  very  glad  to  have 
heard  it,"  rejoined  Moya.  "  It's  instruc- 
tive, to  say  the  least." 

"  It  was  necessary,"  said  Rigden  quietly. 

"  No  doubt !  " 

29 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  A  He  sometimes  is,"  he  continued 
calmly.  "  You  will  probably  agree  with 
me  there." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Moya  promptly ;  but 
no  insinuation  had  been  intended,  no 
apology  was  offered,  and  Rigden  pro- 
ceeded as  though  no  interruption  had 
occurred. 

"  I  am  not  good  at  them  as  a  general 
rule,"  he  confessed.  "  But  just  now  I  was 
determined  to  do  my  best.  I  suppose  you 
would  call  it  my  worst !  " 

Moya  elected  not  to  call  it  anything. 

"  That  poor  fellow  in  the  store " 

"  I  really  don't  care  to  know  anything 
about  him." 

"  — I  simply  couldn't  do  it,"  concluded 
Rigden  expressively. 

"  Is  he  the  man  they  want  or  not  ?  " 

The  question  came  in  one  breath  with 
the  interruption,  but  with  a  change  of  tone 
so  unguardedly  complete  that  Rigden 
smiled  openly.  There  was  no  answering 
smile  from  Moya.  Her  sense  of  humour, 
that  saving  grace  of  the  Bethunes  as  a 
family,  had  deserted  her  as  utterly  as  other 

30 


Insult 

graces  of  which  she  had  more  or  less  of  a 
monopoly. 

"  Of  course  he's  the  man,"  said  Rigden 
at  once ;  but  again  there  was  the  deeper 
trouble  in  his  tone,  the  intrinsic  trouble 
which  mere  results  could  not  aggravate. 

And  this  time  Moya's  perceptions  were 
more  acute.  But  by  now  pride  had  the 
upper  hand  of  her.  There  was  some  ex- 
traordinary and  mysterious  reason  for  Rig- 
den's  conduct  from  beginning  to  end  of 
this  incident,  or  rather  from  the  beginning 
to  this  present  point,  which  was  obviously 
not  the  end  at  all.  Moya  would  have  given 
almost  anything  to  know  what  that  reason 
was ;  the  one  thing  that  she  would  not  give 
was  the  inch  involved  in  asking  the  ques- 
tion in  so  many  words.  And  Rigden  in  his 
innocence  appreciated  her  delicacy  in  not 
asking. 

"  I  can't  explain,"  he  began  in  rueful 
apology,  and  would  have  gone  on  to  entreat 
her  to  trust  him  for  once.  But  for  some 
reason  the  words  jammed.  And  meanwhile 
there  was  an  opening  which  no  Bethune 
could  resist. 

31 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  Have  I  asked  you  for  an  explanation  ?  " 

"  No.  You've  been  awfully  good  about 
that.  You're  pretty  rough  on  a  fellow,  all 
the  same !  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  am  at  all." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  are,  Moya !  " 

For  her  tongue  was  beginning  to  hit  him 
hard. 

"  You  needn't  raise  your  voice,  Pelham, 
just  because  there's  some  one  coming." 

It  was  only  the  Eureka  jackeroo  (or 
"  Colonial  experiencer "),  who  had  the 
hardest  work  on  the  station,  and  did  it 
"  for  his  tucker,"  but  so  badly  as  to  justify 
Rigden  in  his  bargain.  It  may  here  be 
mentioned  that  the  manager's  full  name 
was  Pelham  Stanislaus  Rigden ;  it  was, 
however,  a  subconscious  peculiarity  of  this 
couple  never  to  address  each  other  by  a 
mere  Christian  name.  Either  they  con- 
fined themselves  to  the  personal  pronoun, 
or  they  made  use  of  expressions  which  may 
well  be  left  upon  their  lovers'  lips.  But 
though  scarcely  aware  of  the  habitual 
breach,  they  were  mutually  alive  to  the 
rare   observance,   which   was   perhaps   the 

32 


Insult 

first  thing-  to  make  Rigden  realise  the 
breadth  and  depth  of  his  offence.  It  was 
with  difficuhy  he  could  hold  his  tongue 
until  the  jackeroo  had  turned  his  horse 
adrift  and  betaken  himself  to  the  bachelors' 
hut  euphemistically  yclept  "  the  barracks." 

"  What  have  I  done,"  cried  Rigden,  in 
low  tones,  "  besides  lying  as  you  heard  ? 
That  I  shall  suffer  for,  to  a  pretty  dead  cer- 
tainty.    What  else  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Moya  impatiently, 
as  though  the  subject  bored  her.  In  reality 
she  was  wondering  and  wondering  why  he 
should  have  run  the  very  smallest  risk  for 
the  sake  of  a  runaway  prisoner  whom  he 
had  certainly  pretended  never  to  have  seen 
before. 

"  But  I  can  see  there's  something  else," 
persisted  Rigden.  "  What  on  earth  is  it, 
darhng?    After  all  I  did  not  lie  to  you !  " 

"  No,"  cried  Moya,  downright  at  last  ; 
"  you  only  left  me  for  two  mortal  hours 
alone  on  this  verandah !  " 

Rigden  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Good  heavens !  "  he  cried ;  and  little 
dreamed  that  he  was  doubling  his  enormity. 

33 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  So  you  were  unaware  of  it,  were  you  ?  " 

"  Quite !  "  he  vowed  naively. 

"  You  had  forgotten  my  existence,  in 
fact  ?     Your  candour  is  too  charming !  " 

His  candour  had  already  come  home  to 
Rigden,  and  he  bitterly  deplored  it,  but 
there  was  no  retreat  from  the  transparent 
truth.  He  therefore  braced  himself  to  stand 
or  fall  by  what  he  had  said,  but  meanwhile 
to  defend  it  to  the  best  of  his  ability. 

"  You  don't  know  what  an  interview  I 
had  in  yonder,"  he  said,  jerking  a  hand 
towards  the  store.  "  And  the  worst  of  it 
is  that  I  can  never  tell  you." 

"  Ah !  " 

"  God  forgive  me  for  forgetting  or  neg- 
lecting you  for  a  single  instant !  "  Rigden 
exclaimed.  "  I  can  only  assure  you  that 
when  I  left  you  I  didn't  mean  to  be  gone 
five  minutes.  You  will  realise  that  what 
I  eventually  undertook  to  do  for  this 
wretched  man  made  all  the  difference.  It 
did  put  you  out  of  my  head  for  the  moment ; 
but  you  speak  as  though  it  were  going  to 
put  you  out  of  my  life  for  all  time !  " 

"  For  the  sake  of  a  man  you  pretended 
34 


Insult 

never  to  have  seen  before,"  murmured 
Moya,  deftly  assuming  u^hat  she  burned  to 
know. 

"  It  was  no  pretence.  I  didn't  recognise 
him." 

"  But  you  do  now,"  pronounced  Moya, 
as  one  stating  a  perceptible  fact. 

"  Yes,"  said  Rigden,  "  I  recognise  him — 
now." 

There  was  a  pause.  Moya  broke  it 
softly,  a  suspicion  of  sympathy  in  her 
voice. 

"  I  am  afraid  he  must  have  some  hold 
over  you." 

"  He  has  indeed,"  said  Rigden  bitterly ; 
and  next  moment  his  heart  was  leaping,  as 
a  flame  leaps  before  the  last. 

She  who  loved  him  was  back  at  his  side, 
she  who  had  flouted  him  was  no  more.  Her 
hot  hands  held  both  of  his.  Her  quick 
breath  beat  upon  his  face.  It  was  now 
nearly  dark  in  the  verandah,  but  there  was 
just  light  enough  for  him  to  see  the  tears 
shining  in  her  splendid  eyes.  Rigden  was 
infinitely  touched  and  troubled,  but  not  by 
this  alone.     It  was  her  voice  that  ran  into 

35 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

his  soul.  She  was  imploring  him  to  tell  her 
all ;  there  must  be  no  secrets  between  them  ; 
let  him  but  tell  her  the  worst  and  she  would 
stand  by  him,  against  all  the  world  if  need 
be,  and  no  matter  how  bad  the  worst  might 
be.  She  was  no  child.  There  was  nothing 
he  could  not  tell  her,  nothing  she  could  not 
understand  and  forgive,  except  his  silence. 
Silence  and  secrecy  were  the  one  unpardon- 
able sin  in  her  eyes.  She  would  even  help 
him  to  conceal  that  dreadful  man,  no  matter 
what  the  underlying  reason  might  be,  or 
how  much  she  might  disagree  with  it,  if 
only  the  reason  were  explained  to  her  once 
and  for  all. 

It  was  the  one  thing  that  Rigden  would 
not  explain. 

He  entreated  her  to  trust  him.  His  voice 
broke  and  the  words  failed  him.  But  on 
the  crucial  point  he  was  firm.  And  so  was 
she. 

"  You  said  you  were  unreasonable  and 
exacting,"  he  groaned.  "  I  didn't  believe 
it.     Now  I  see  that  it  is  true." 

"  But  this  is  neither  one  nor  the  other," 
cried  Moya.    "  Goodness !    If  I  were  never 

36 


Insult 

to  exact  more  than  your  confidence!  It's 
my  right.     If  you  refuse " 

"  I  do  refuse  it,  in  this  instance,  Moya." 

"  Then  here's  your  ring!  " 

There  was  a  wrench,  a  ghtter,  and  some- 
thing fell  hot  into  his  palm. 

"  I  only  hope  you  will  think  better  of 
this,"  he  said, 

"  Never !  " 

"  I  own  that  in  many  ways  I  have  been 
quite  in  the  wrong " 

"  in  every  way !  " 

"  There  you  are  unreasonable  again.  I 
can't  help  it.  I  am  doing  what  I  honestly 
believe " 

His  voice  died  away,  for  a  whip  was 
cracking  in  the  darkness,  with  the  muffled 
beat  of  unshod  hoofs  in  the  heavy  sand. 
They  sat  together  without  a  word,  each 
waiting  for  the  other  to  rise  first ;  and  thus 
Theodore  found  them,  though  Moya's 
dress  was  all  he  could  descry  at  first. 

"That  you,  Moya?  Well,  what  price 
the  bush  ?  I've  been  shooting  turkeys ; 
they  call  it  sport ;  but  give  me  crows  to- 
morrow!    What,  you  there  too,  Rigden? 

37 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

Rum  coincidence!  Sorry  I  didn't  see  you 
sooner,  old  chap;  but  I'm  not  going  to 
retract  about  the  turkeys." 

He  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  the 
barracks,  and  Moya  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Lend  me  that  ring,"  she  said.  "  There's 
no  reason  why  we  should  give  ourselves 
away  to-night." 

"  I  think  the  sooner  the  better,"  said 
Rigden. 

But  he  returned  the  ring. 


38 


IV 

BETHUNE    OF    THE    HALL 

yHEODORE  BETHUNE  was  a  young 
man  of  means,  with  the  brains  to  add 
to  them,  and  the  energy  to  use  his  brains. 
As  the  eldest  of  his  family  he  had  inherited 
a  special  legacy  in  boyhood ;  had  imme- 
diately taken  himself  away  from  the  Church 
of  England  Grammar  School,  and  booked 
his  passage  to  London  by  an  early  boat. 
On  the  voyage  he  read  the  classics  in  his 
deck  chair,  asked  copious  questions  in  the 
smoking-room,  and  finally  decided  upon 
Cambridge  as  the  theatre  of  his  academical 
exploits. 

Jesus  was  at  that  time  the  College  most 
favoured  by  Australasian  youth :  this  was 
quite  enough  for  Theodore  Bethune.  He 
ultimately  selected  Trinity  Hall,  as  appear- 
ing to  him  to  ofifer  the  distinction  of  Trin- 
ity without  its  cosmopolitan  flavour,  and 

39 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

a  legal  instead  of  an  athletic  tradition.  In 
due  course  he  took  as  good  a  degree  as  he 
required,  and  proceeded  to  be  called  at  the 
English  bar  before  returning  to  practice  in 
Melbourne.  In  connection  with  his  uni- 
versity life  he  had  two  or  three  original 
boasts :  he  had  never  been  seen  intoxicated, 
never  played  any  game,  and  only  once  in- 
vestigated Fenner's  (to  watch  the  Austra- 
lians). On  the  other  hand,  he  had  added 
appreciably  to  his  income  by  intelligent 
betting  on  Newmarket  course. 

Temperament,  character,  and  attainment 
seemed  to  have  combined  to  produce  the 
perfect  barrister  in  Theodore  Bethune,  who 
was  infinitely  critical  but  himself  imper- 
vious to  criticism,  while  possessed  of  a 
capital  gift  of  insolence  and  a  face  of  triple 
brass.  The  man,  however,  was  not  so  per- 
fect ;  even  the  gentleman  may  exhibit  cer- 
tain flaws.  Of  these  one  of  his  sisters  had 
latterly  become  very  conscious ;  but  they 
came  out  as  a  boon  to  her  on  the  second 
evening  of  this  visit  to  Eureka  Station,  New 
South  Wales. 

For  in  conversation  Bethune  was  what 
40 


Bethune  of  the  Hall 

even  he  would  formerly  have  called  "  a 
terror,"  an  epithet  which  he  still  endeav- 
oured to  deserve,  though  he  no  longer 
made  use  of  it  himself.  Captious,  cock- 
sure, omniscient,  he  revelled  in  the  uses  of 
raillery  and  of  repartee.  Nothing  pleased 
him  more  than  to  combat  the  pet  theories 
of  persons  whom  he  had  no  occasion  to 
conciliate.  He  could  take  any  side  on  any 
question,  as  became  the  profession  he  never 
ceased  from  practising.  He  destroyed  il- 
lusions as  other  men  destroy  game,  and 
seldom  made  a  new  acquaintance  without 
securing  a  fair  bag.  Better  traits  were  a 
playful  fancy  and  an  essential  geniality 
which  suggested  more  of  mischief  than  of 
malice  in  the  real  man ;  the  pose,  however, 
was  that  of  uncompromising  and  heartless 
critic  of  every  creature  of  his  acquaintance, 
and  every  country  in  which  he  had  set 
foot. 

The  first  night  he  had  behaved  very  well. 
Moya  had  made  him  promise  that  he  would 
not  be  openly  critical  for  twenty-four  hours. 
He  had  kept  his  word  like  a  man  and  a 
martyr.    The  second  night  was  different. 

41 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

Theodore  was  unmuzzled.  And  both 
Moya  and  Rigden  were  thankful  in  their 
hearts. 

Sir  Oracle  scarce  knew  where  to  begin. 
There  were  the  turkeys  which  a  child  could 
have  hit  with  a  pop-gun ;  there  were  the 
emus  which  the  Queen's  Prizeman  could 
not  have  brought  down  with  his  Lee-Met- 
ford.  But  Theodore  had  discovered  that 
there  was  no  medium  in  the  bush.  Look 
at  the  heat !  He  had  been  through  the  Red 
Sea  at  its  worst,  but  it  had  not  fetched  the 
skin  from  his  hands  as  this  one  day  in 
Riverina.  Riverina,  forsooth  !  Where  were 
their  rivers?    Lucus  a  non  lucendo. 

The  storekeeper  winked ;  he  was  a 
humorist  himself,  of  a  lower  order. 

"  No  good  coming  it  in  Greek  up  here, 
mister." 

The  jackeroo  was  the  storekeeper's 
hourly  butt.  The  jackeroo  was  a  new 
chum  who  had  done  pretty  badly  at  his 
public  school,  and  was  going  to  do  worse 
in  the  bush,  but  he  still  knew  Latin  from 
Greek  when  he  heard  it,  and  he  perceived 
his  chance  of  scoring  ofif  the  storekeeper. 

42 


Bethune  of  the  Hall 

"  Greek  is  good,"  said  the  jackeroo. 
"  Greek  is  great !  " 

"  Ah,  now  we  have  it !  "  cried  the  store- 
keeper, who  was  a  stout  young  man  with 
bulbous  eyes,  and  all  the  sly  glances  of  the 
low  comedian.  "  'Tis  the  voice  of  the 
scholard,  I  heard  him  explain !  He  comes 
from  Rugby,  Mr.  Bethune ;  hasn't  he  told 
you  yet  ?  Calls  himself  an  Old  Rug — sure 
it  isn't  a  plaid-shawl,  Ives?  Oh,  you  needn't 
put  on  side  because  you  can  draft  Greek 
from  Latin !  " 

Ives  the  jackeroo,  a  weak  youth  wearing 
spectacles,  had  put  on  nothing  but  the  long- 
suffering  smile  with  which  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  receiving  the  storekeeper's  grape- 
shot.  He  said  no  more,  however,  and  a 
brief  but  disdainful  silence  on  the  part  of 
Bethune  made  an  awkward  pause  which 
Rigden  broke  heroically.  Hitherto  but 
little  talking  had  been  required  of  him  or 
of  Moya.  The  aggressive  Theodore  had 
been  their  unwitting  friend,  and  he  stood 
them  in  better  stead  than  ever  when  the 
young  men  adjourned  to  smoke  on  the 
verandah. 

43 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

This  was  the  time  when  the  engaged 
couple  would  naturally  have  disappeared ; 
they  had  duly  done  so  the  previous  evening ; 
to-night  they  merely  sat  apart,  out  of  range 
of  the  lamp,  and  the  young  men  galled  them 
both  by  never  glancing  their  way.  Nothing 
had  been  noticed  yet ;  nor  indeed  was  there 
anything  remarkable  in  their  silence  after 
so  long  a  day  spent  in  each  other's  exclu- 
sive society.  From  time  to  time,  however, 
they  made  a  little  talk  to  save  appearances 
which  were  incriminating  only  in  their  own 
minds ;  and  all  the  time  their  eyes  rested 
together  upon  the  black  stack  of  logs  and 
corrugated  iron  which  was  the  store. 

Once  the  storekeeper  approached  with 
discreet  deliberation. 

"  I've  lost  my  key  of  the  store,  Mr.  Rig- 
den  ;  may  I  borrow  yours  ?  " 

"  It's  I  who've  lost  mine,  Spicer,  so  I 
took  yours  from  your  room.  No,  don't 
bother  about  your  books  to-night ;  don't  go 
over  there  again.  Look  after  Mr.  Be- 
thune." 

He  turned  to  Moya  when  the  youth  was 
gone. 

44 


Bethune  of  the  Hall 

"  One    lie    makes    many,"   he   muttered 
grimly. 

There  was  no  reply. 

Meanwhile  Bethune  was  in  his  element, 
with  an  audience  of  two  bound  to  listen  to 
him  by  the  bond  of  a  couple  of  his  best 
cigars,  and  with  just  enough  of  crude  re- 
taliation from  the  storekeeper  to  act  as  a 
blunt   cutlass   to   Theodore's   rapier.     The 
table  with  the  lamp  was  at  the  latter's  elbow, 
and  the  rays  fell  full  upon  the  long  succes- 
ful   nose    and   the    unwavering   mouth    of 
an  otherwise  rather  ordinary  legal  counte- 
nance.    There  was  plenty  of  animation  in 
the  face,  however,  and  enough  of  the  devil 
to  redeem  a  good  deal  of  the  prig.     The 
lamp  also  made  the  most  of  a  gleaming 
shirt-front ;      for     Theodore     insisted     on 
dressing  ("for  my  own  comfort,  purely,") 
even  in  the  wilderness,  where  black  coats 
were   good   enough   for  the   other   young 
men,  and  where  Mora  herself  wore  a  high 
blouse. 

"  But  there's  nothing  to  be  actually 
ashamed  of  in  an  illusion  or  two,"  the  jack- 
eroo  was  being  assured,  "  especially  at  your 

45 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

age.  I've  had  them  myself,  and  may  have 
one  or  two  about  me  still.  You  only  know 
it  when  you  lose  them,  and  my  faith  in  my- 
self has  been  rudely  shattered.  I've  shed 
one  thundering  big  illusion  since  I've  been 
up  here." 

The  Rugby  boy  was  not  following;  he 
had  but  expressed  a  sufificiently  real  regret 
at  not  having  gone  up  to  Cambridge  him- 
self; and  he  was  wondering  whether  he 
should  regret  it  the  less  in  future  for  what 
this  Cambridge  man  had  to  say  upon  the 
subject.  On  the  whole  it  did  not  reconcile 
him  to  the  university  of  the  bush,  and  for  a 
little  he  had  a  deaf  ear  for  the  conversation. 
A  question  had  been  asked  and  answered 
ere  he  recovered  the  thread. 

"  Oh,  go  on,"  said  the  storekeeper. 
"  Give  the  back-blocks  a  rest,  Bethune !" 

"  I  certainly  shall,  Mr.  Spicer,"  rejoined 
Theodore,  with  the  least  possible  emphasis 
on  the  prefix,  "  once  I  shake  their  infernal 
dust  from  my  shoes.  Not  that  I'd  mind 
the  dust  if  there  was  anything  to  do  in  it. 
Of  course  this  sort  of  thing's  luxury,"  he 
had  the  grace  to  interject ;  "  in  fact,  it's  far 

46 


Bethune  of  the  Hall 

too  luxurious  for  me.  One  rather  likes  to 
rough  it  when  one  comes  so  far.  Anything 
for  some  excitement,  some  romance,  some- 
thing one  can't  get  nearer  home !  " 

"  Well,  you  can't  get  this,"  said  the  loyal 
storekeeper. 

"  I  never  was  at  a  loss  for  moonlight," 
observed  Theodore,  "  when  there  happened 
to  be  a  moon.  There  are  verandahs  in 
Toorak." 

Spicer  lowered  his  voice. 

"  There  was  a  man  once  shot  dead  in  this 
one.     Bushrangers !  " 

"When  was  that?" 

"  Oh,  well,  it  was  before  my  time." 

"  Ten  years  ago  ?  " 

"  Ten  to  twenty,  I  suppose." 

"  Ten  to  twenty !  Why,  my  good  fellow, 
there  was  a  blackfellows'  camp  in  Collins 
Street,  twenty  years  ago!  Corrobborees, 
and  all  that,  where  the  trams  run  now." 

"  I'm  hanged  if  there  were,"  rejoined 
Spicer  warmly.  "  Not  twenty  years  ago, 
no,  nor  yet  thirty !  " 

"  Say  forty  if  it  makes  you  happy.  It 
doesn't   aflfect   my   argument.     You   don't 

47 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

expect  me  to  bolt  out  of  this  verandah  be- 
cause some  poor  devil  painted  it  red  before 
I  was  breeched?  What  shall  it  profit  us 
that  there  were  bushrangers  once  upon  a 
time,  and  blacks  before  the  bushrangers? 
The  point  is  that  they're  both  about  as  ex- 
tinct as  the  plesiosaurus " 

"  Kill  whose  cat  ?  "  interposed  the  store- 
keeper in  a  burst  of  his  peculiar  brand  of 
badinage.  "  He's  coming  it  again,  Ives ; 
you'll  have  another  chance  of  showing  off, 
old  travelling-rug !  " 

"  And  all  you've  got  to  oflfer  one  instead," 
concluded  Bethune,  "  besides  the  subtleties 
of  your  own  humour,  is  a  so-called  turkey 
the  size  of  a  haystack,  that'll  ram  its  beak 
down  your  gun-barrel  if  you  wait  long 
enough." 

The  Rugbeian  laughed  outright,  and 
Spicer  gained  time  by  insulting  him  while 
he  rummaged  his  big  head  for  a  retort 
worthy  of  Bethune  ;  it  was  worthier  of  him- 
self when  it  came. 

"  You  want  adventure,  do  you  ?  I  know 
the  place  for  you,  and  its  within  ten  miles 
of  where  you  sit.     Blind  Man's  Block !  " 

48 


Bethune  of  the  Hall 

"  Reminds  one  of  the  Tower/'  yawned 
Bethune. 

"  It'll  remind  you  of  your  sins  if  ever  you 
get  bushed  in  it !  Ten  by  ten  of  abandoned 
beastliness ;  not  a  hoof  or  a  drop  between 
the  four  fences ;  only  scrub,  and  scrub,  and 
scrub  of  the  very  worst.  Mallee  and  porcu- 
pine— porcupine  and  mallee.  But  you  go 
and  sample  it;  only  don't  get  too  far  in 
from  the  fence.  If  you  do  you  may  turn 
up  your  toes ;  and  you  won't  be  the  first  or 
the  last  to  turn  'em  up  in  Blind  Man's 
Block." 

"  What  of?"  asked  Bethune  sceptically. 

"  Thirst,"  said  Spicer ;  "  thirst  and  hun- 
ger, but  chiefly  thirst." 

"  In  fenced  country  ?  " 

"  It's  ten  miles  between  the  fences,  and 
not  a  drop  of  water,  nor  the  trace  of  a  track. 
It's  abandoned  country,  I'm  telling  you." 

"  But  you  could  never  be  more  than  five 
miles  from  a  fence  ;  surely  you  could  hit  one 
or  other  of  them  and  follow  it  up?  " 

"Could  you?"  said  the  storekeeper. 
"  Well,  you  try  it,  and  let  me  know !  Try 
it  on  horseback,  and  you'll  see  what  it's  like 

49 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

to  strike  a  straight  line  through  mallee  and 
porcupine ;  and  after  that,  if  you're  still 
hard  up  for  an  adventure,  just  you  try  it  on 
foot." 

"  Don't  you,  Theodore,"  advised  Rigden 
from  his  chair.  "  I'm  not  keen  on  turning 
out  all  hands  to  look  for  you,  old  chap." 

"  But  is  the  place  really  as  bad  as  all 
that  ?  "  inquired  Moya,  following  him  into 
the  conversation  for  the  look  of  the  thing. 

"  Worse,"  said  Rigden,  and  leaned  for- 
w^ard,  silent.  In  another  moment  he  had 
risen,  walked  to  the  end  of  the  verandah, 
and  returned  as  far  as  Bethune's  chair. 
"  Sure  you  want  an  adventure,  Theodore  ? 
Because  the  Assyrians  are  coming  down 
in  the  shape  of  the  mounted  police,  and  it's 
the  second  time  they've  been  here  to-day. 
Looks  fishy,  doesn't  it?  " 

Listening,  they  heard  the  thin  staccato 
jingle  whose  first  and  tiniest  tinkle  had  been 
caught  by  Rigden ;  then  with  one  accord 
the  party  rose,  and  gathered  at  the  end 
of  the  verandah,  whence  the  three  black 
horsemen  could  be  seen  ambling  into 
larger  sizes,  among  the  tussocks  of  blue- 

50 


Bethune  of  the  Hall 

bush,  between  the  station  and  the  rising 
moon. 

"What  do  they  want?"  idly  inquired 
Bethune. 

"  A  runaway  convict,"  said  Rigden, 
quietly. 

"  No !  "  cried  Spicer. 

"  Is  it  a  fact  ?  "  asked  Ives,  turning  in- 
stinctively to  Miss  Bethune. 

"  I  believe  so,"  replied  Moya,  with 
notable  indifference. 

"  Then  why  on  earth  have  you  been  keep- 
ing it  dark,  both  of  you?"  demanded  Be- 
thune, and  he  favoured  the  engaged  couple 
with  a  scrutiny  too  keen  for  one  of  them. 
Moya's  eyes  fell.  But  Rigden  was  equal 
to  the  occasion. 

"  Because  the  police  don't  want  it  to  get 
about.     That's  why,"  said  he  shortly. 

And  Moya  admired  his  resource  until  she 
had  time  to  think ;  then  it  revolted  her  as 
much  as  all  the  rest.  But  meanwhile  the 
riders  were  dismounting  in  the  moonlight. 
Rigden  went  out  to  meet  them,  and  forth- 
with disappeared  with  Harkness  among  the 
pines. 

SI 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  No  luck  at  all,"  growled  the  sergeant. 
"  We're  clean  off  the  scent,  and  it  licks  me 
how  he  gave  you  such  a  wide  berth  and  us 
the  slip.  We  can't  have  been  that  far  be- 
hind him.  None  of  the  other  gentlemen 
came  across  him,  I  suppose?  " 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact  I've  only  just  men- 
tioned it  to  them,"  replied  Rigden,  rather 
lamely.  "  I  thought  I'd  leave  it  till  you 
came  back.  You  seemed  not  to  want  it  to 
get  about,  you  know." 

"  No  more  I  do — for  lots  of  reasons.  I 
mean  to  take  the  devil,  alive  or  dead,  and 
yet  I  don't  want  anybody  else  to  take  him ! 
Sounds  well,  doesn't  it?  Yet  I  bet  you'd 
feel  the  same  in  my  place — if  you  knew  who 
he  was !  " 

Rigden  stood  mute. 

"  You  won't  cut  me  out  for  the  reward, 
Mr.  Rigden,  if  I  tell  you  who  it  is,  between 
ourselves  ?  You  needn't  answer :  of  course 
you  won't.  Well — then — it's  good  old 
Bovill  the  bushranger !  "  And  the  ser- 
geant's face  shone  like  the  silver  buttons 
of  the  sergeant's  tunic. 

"  Captain  Bovill !  "  gasped  Rigden,  but 
52 


Bethune  of  the  Hall 

only  because  he  felt  obliged  to  gasp  some- 
thing. 

"  Not  so  loud,  man !  "  implored  the  ser- 
geant, who  had  sunk  his  own  voice  to  the 
veriest  whisper.  "  Yes — yes — that's  the 
gentleman.  None  other!  Incredible,  isn't 
it?  Of  course  it  wasn't  Darlinghurst  he 
escaped  from,  but  Pentridge;  only  I 
thought  you'd  guess  if  I  said;  it's  been  in 
the  papers  some  days." 

"  We  get  ours  very  late,  and  haven't  al- 
ways time  to  read  them  then.  I  knew 
nothing  about  it." 

"  Well,  then,  you  knew  about  as  much 
as  is  known  in  Victoria  from  that  day  to 
this.  The  police  down  there  have  lost 
their  end  of  the  thread,  and  it  was  my 
great  luck  to  pick  it  up  again  by  the  merest 
chance  last  week.  I'll  tell  you  about  that 
another  time.  But  you  understand  what 
it  would  mean  to  me  ?  " 

"  Rather !  " 

"  To  land  him  more  or  less  single- 
handed  !  " 

"  I  won't  tell  a  soul." 

"  And  don't  you  go  and  take  the  man 
53 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

himself  behind  my  back,  Mr.  Rigden ! " 
the  policeman  was  obliged  to  add,  with 
such  jocularity  as  men  feign  in  their  dead- 
liest earnest. 

But  Rigden's  laugh  was  genuine  and  in- 
voluntary. 

"  I  can  safely  promise  that  I  won't  do 
that,"  said  he.  "  But  ask  the  other  fellows 
if  they've  seen  the  kind  of  man  you  de- 
scribe ;   if  they  haven't,  no  harm  done." 

The  unprofitable  inquiry  was  conducted 
in  Moya's  presence,  who  abruptly  disap- 
peared, unable  to  bear  any  more  and 
still  hold  her  peace.  Thereupon  Rigden 
breathed  more  freely,  and  offered  supper 
with  an  improving  grace ;  the  very  tracker 
was  included  in  the  invitation,  which  was 
accepted  with  the  frank  alacrity  of  famished 
men. 

"  And  it's  not  the  last  demand  we  shall 
have  to  make  on  you,"  said  Harkness,  as 
he  washed  in  Rigden's  room ;  "we've  rid- 
den our  cattle  ofif  their  legs  since  we  were 
here  in  the  afternoon.  We  must  hark 
back  on  our  own  tracks  first  thing  in  the 
morning.     Beds  or  bunks  we  shall  want 

54 


Bethune  of  the  Hall 

for  the  night,  and  fresh  horses  for  an  early 
start." 

Rigden  thought  a  moment. 

"  By  all  means,  if  you*  can  stand  the 
travellers'  hut.  It's  empty,  but  in  here 
we're  rather  full.  As  for  horses,  I've  the 
very  three  for  you.     I'll  run  'em  up  myself." 

The  storekeeper  came  to  him  as  he  was 
pulling  on  his  boots.  He  was  not  a  con- 
spicuously attractive  young  man,  but  he 
had  one  huge  merit.  His  devotion  to  Rig- 
den was  quite  extraordinary. 

"  Why  not  let  one  of  us  run  up  those 
horses,  sir?  " 

"  One  of  you !  I  like  that.  Give  us 
those  spurs." 

"  Well,  of  course  I  meant  myself,  Mr. 
Rigden.  The  new  chum  wouldn't  be  much 
use." 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  you'd  be  much  better. 
You  don't  know  the  paddocks  as  I  know 
them,  nor  the  mokes  either.  Nobody  does, 
for  that  matter.  But  I  don't  want  the  men 
to  get  wind  of  this  to-night." 

"  I'll  see  that  they  don't,  Mr.  Rigden." 

"  Now  I'm  ready,  and  I'll  be  twice  as 
55 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

quick  as  anybody  else.     What's  the  time, 
Spicer?" 

"  Just  on  ten." 

"  Well,  I'll  be  back  by  eleven.  Now  go 
in  and  see  they've  got  everything  they 
want,  and  take  Mr.  Bethune  in  with  you 
for  a  drink.  That's  your  billet  for  to-night, 
Spicer;  you've  got  to  play  my  part  and 
leave  the  store  to  take  care  of  itself.  Now 
I'm  off." 

But  it  was  some  minutes  before  he  pro- 
ceeded beyond  the  horse-yard;  indeed,  he 
loitered  there,  though  the  jackeroo  had  the 
night-horse  ready  saddled,  until  Theodore 
had  accepted  the  storekeeper's  invitation, 
and  the  verandah  was  empty  at  last. 

"  Hang  it !  I'll  have  my  dust-coat,"  he 
cried  when  about  to  mount.  "  Hold  him 
while  I  run  back  to  the  barracks." 

"  Can't  I  go  for  you,  sir?  " 

"  No,  you  can't." 

And  the  Rugby  boy  thought  wistfully  of 
Cambridge  while  Rigden  was  gone ;  for  he 
was  an  absent-minded  youth,  who  did  not 
even  notice  how  the  pockets  of  the  dust- 
coat  bulged  when  Rigden  returned. 

56 


Bethune  of  the  Hall 

Only  Moya,  from  her  dark  but  open  door 
on  that  same  verandah,  had  seen  the  man- 
ager slip  from  the  barracks  over  to  the 
store,  and  remain  there  some  minutes,  with 
the  door  shut  and  the  key  inside,  before 
creeping  stealthily  out  and  once  more  lock- 
ing the  door  behind  him. 


57 


V 

A  RED  HERRING 

D  IGDEN  cantered  to  the  horse-paddock 
gate,  and  on  and  on  along  the  beaten 
track  which  intersected  that  enclosure,  and 
which  led  ultimately  to  a  wool-shed  pitched 
further  from  the  head-station  than  wool- 
shed  ever  was  before  or  since.  Rigden  rode 
as  though  he  were  on  his  way  thither ;  he 
certainly  had  not  the  appearance  of  a  man 
come  to  cut  out  horses  in  a  horse-paddock. 
His  stock-whip  was  added  to  the  bulging 
contents  of  the  dust-coat  pockets,  instead 
of  being  ready  as  a  lance  in  rest.  The  rider 
looked  neither  right  nor  left  as  he  rode. 
He  passed  a  mob  of  horses  in  the  moon- 
light, not  without  seeing  them,  but  without 
a  second  glance. 

Suddenly  he  left  the  track  at  a  tangent; 
but  there  was  no  symptom  of  the  sudden 
thought.     Rigden  sat  loosely  in  his  saddle, 

58 


A  Red  Herring 

careless  but  alert,  a  man  who  knew  every 
inch  of  the  country,  and  his  own  mind  to 
an  irreducible  nicety.  A  clump  of  box 
rose  in  his  path ;  a  round-shot  would  have 
cut  through  quicker,  but  not  more  unerr- 
ingly. Rigden  came  out  on  the  edge  of 
a  chain  of  clay-pans,  hard-baked  by  the  sun, 
and  shining  under  the  moon  like  so  many 
water-holes. 

Rigden  rode  a  little  way  upon  the  nearest 
hard,  smooth  surface ;  then  he  pulled  up, 
and,  looking  back,  could  see  scarcely  any 
trace  of  his  horse's  hoofs.  He  now  flung  a 
leg  across  the  saddle,  and  sat  as  the  ladies 
while  his  quiet  beast  stood  like  bronze.  A 
night-horse  is  ex  oiflcio  a  quiet  beast. 

Rigden  wondered  whether  any  man  had 
ever  before  changed  his  boots  on  horse- 
back. When  he  proceeded  it  was  afoot, 
with  his  arm  through  the  reins,  and  the 
pockets  of  the  dust-coat  bulging  more  than 
ever.  From  his  walk  it  was  manifest  that 
the  new  shoes  pinched. 

But  they  left  no  print  unless  he  stamped 
with  all  his  might.  And  that  was  a  very 
painful  process.     Rigden  schooled  himself 

59 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

to  endure  it,  however,  and  repeated  the 
torture  two  or  three  times  on  his  way  across 
the  clay-pans.  On  such  occasions  the 
night-horse  was  made  to  hah  (while  the 
stamping  was  done  under  its  nose)  and  to 
pirouette  in  fashion  that  must  have  aston- 
ished the  modest  animal  almost  as  much  as 
each  fresh  inspiration  astonished  Rigden 
himself. 

On  the  sandy  ground  beyond  he  merely 
led  the  horse  until  a  fence  was  reached. 
Here  some  minutes  were  spent,  not  only 
in  strapping  down  the  wires  and  coaxing 
the  night-horse  over,  but  in  some  little 
deliberation  which  ended  in  the  making  of 
mock  footprints  with  his  own  boots,  with- 
out, however,  putting  them  on.  Rigden 
had  still  another  mile  to  do  in  the  tight 
shoes  for  this  his  sin.  It  brought  him  to 
the  pouting  lips  of  a  tank  (so  called)  where 
the  moon  shone  in  a  mirror  of  still  water 
framed  in  slime.  Here  he  gave  his  horse 
a  drink,  and,  remounting,  changed  his 
boots  once  more.  A  sharp  canter  brought 
him  back  to  the  fence ;  it  was  crossed  as 
before;  the  right  horses  were  discovered 

60 


A  Red  Herring 

and  cut  out  with  the  speed  and  precision 
of  a  master  bushman;  and  at  half-past 
eleven  exactly  the  thunder  of  their  hoofs 
and  the  musketry  of  Rigden's  stock-whip 
were  heard  together  in  the  barracks, 
where  the  rest  had  gathered  for  a  final 
pipe. 

"  Good  time,"  said  the  sergeant,  who  was 
seated  with  his  subordinate  on  the  store- 
keeper's bed. 

'.'  Not  for  him,"  said  Spicer.  "  He  said 
he'd  be  back  by  eleven.  He's  generally 
better  than  his  word." 

"  A  really  good  man  at  his  work — 
what?" 

Bethune  had  been  offered  the  only  chair, 
and  was  not  altogether  pleased  with  him- 
self for  having  accepted  it.  It  was  rather 
a  menagerie,  this  storekeeper's  room,  with 
these  policemen  smoking  their  rank  tobac- 
co. Theodore  had  offered  them  his  ci- 
gars, to  put  an  end  to  the  reek,  but  his  offer 
had  come  too  late.  He  hardly  knew  why 
he  remained ;  not  even  to  himself  would  he 
admit  his  anxiety  to  know  what  was  going 
to  happen  next.  A  criminal  case !  It  would 

6i 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

teach  him  nothing ;  he  never  touched  crim- 
inal work;  none  of  your  obvious  law  and 
vulgar  human  interest  for  him. 

"  Good  man  ?  "  echoed  Spicer  the  loyal. 
"  One  of  the  best  on  God's  earth ;  one  of 
the  straightest  that  ever  stepped.  Don't 
you  make  any  mistake  about  that,  Bethune ! 
I've  known  him  longer  than  you." 

The  testimonial  was  superfluous  in  its 
warmth  and  fulness,  yet  not  uncalled  for 
if  Bethune's  tone  were  taken  seriously. 
It  was,  however,  merely  the  tone  in  which 
that  captious  critic  was  accustomed  to  refer 
to  the  bulk  of  humanity;  indeed,  it  was 
complimentary  for  him.  Before  more  could 
be  added,  "  the  straightest  man  that  ever 
stepped "  had  entered,  looking  the  part. 
His  step  was  crisp  and  confident;  there 
was  a  lively  light  in  his  eye. 

"  Have  a  job  to  find  them?  "  inquired  his 
champion. 

"  Well,"  said  Rigden,  "  I  found  some- 
thing else  first." 

"  The  man?  "  they  all  cried  as  one. 

"  No,  not  the  man,"  said  Rigden  smiling. 
"Where's  your  tracker,  sergeant?" 

62 


A  Red  Herring 

"  Put  him  in  your  travellers'  hut,  Mr. 
Rigden." 

"  Quite  right.  I  only  wanted  to  ask  him 
something,  but  I  dare  say  you  can  tell  me 
as  well.  Get  that  track  pretty  plain  before 
you  lost  it  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"Plain  as  a  pikestafT,  didn't  we?"  said 
the  sergeant  to  his  sub. 

"  My  oath !  "  asseverated  the  trooper, 
who  was  a  man  of  few  words. 

"  Notice  any  peculiarity  about  it,  Hark- 
ness?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  sergeant. 

"  What  ?  "  pursued  Rigden. 

"  That,"  said  Harkness ;  and  he  pro- 
duced a  worn  heel  torn  from  its  sole  and 
uppers. 

"  Exactly,"  said  Rigden,  nodding. 

The  sergeant  sprang  from  the  bed. 

"  Have  you  struck  his  tracks  ?  " 

"I  won't  say  that,"  said  Rigden.  "All 
I  undertake  is  to  show  you  a  distinct  track 
with  no  left  heel  to  it  all  down  the  line. 
No,  I  won't  shake  hands  on  it.  It  may  lead 
to  nothing." 

All  was   now   excitement   in   the   small 
63 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

and  smoky  bedroom.  The  jackeroo  had 
appeared  on  the  scene  from  his  own  room, 
to  which  his  sensitive  soul  ever  banished 
him  betimes.  All  were  on  their  feet  but 
BethUne,  who  retained  the  only  chair,  but 
with  eyes  like  half-sheathed  blades,  and 
head  at  full-cock. 

"  Did  you  follow  it  up  ?  "  asked  the  ser- 
geant. 

"  Yes,  a  bit." 

"  Where  did  you  strike  it?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  what :  you  shall  be  escorted 
to  the  spot." 

"  Um !  "  said  the  sergeant ;  "  not  by  all 
hands,  I  hope?" 

"  By  Mr.  Spicer  and  nobody  else.  I'd 
come  myself,  only  I've  found  other  fish  to 
fry.  Look  here,  Spicer,"  continued  Rig- 
den,  clapping  the  storekeeper  on  the 
shoulder ;  "  you  know  the  clay-pans  in  the 
horse-paddock?  Well,  you'll  see  my 
tracks  there,  and  you'd  better  follow  them ; 
there  are  just  one  or  two  of  the  others ;  but 
on  the  soft  ground  you'll  see  the  one  as 
plain  as  the  other.  You'll  have  to  cross 
the    fence    into    Butcher-boy;    you'll    see 

64 


A  Red  Herring 

where  I  crossed  it.  That's  our  killing- 
sheep  paddock,  Harkness ;  think  your  man 
could  kill  and  eat  a  sheep?  " 

"  I  could  kill  and  eat  you,"  said  the  ser- 
geant cordially,  "  for  the  turn  you've  done 
me. 

"  Thanks ;  but  you  wait  and  see  how  it 
pans  out.  All  I  guarantee  is  that  the 
tracks  are  there ;  how  far  they  go  is  another 
matter.  I  only  followed  them  myself  as 
far  as  the  tank  in  Butcher-boy.  And  that 
reminds  me:  there'll  be  a  big  muster  to- 
morrow, Spicer.  The  tank  in  Butcher- 
boy's  as  low  as  low;  the  Big  Bushy  tanks 
always  go  one  worse;  we'll  muster  Big 
Bushy  to-morrow,  whether  or  no.  I've 
been  meaning  to  do  it  for  some  time.  Be- 
sides, it'll  give  you  all  the  freer  hand  for 
those  tracks,  sergeant:  we  shall  be  miles 
apart." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  the  sergeant. 
"  But  I  should  have  liked  to  get  on  them 
to-night." 

"  The  moon's  pretty  low." 

Harkness  looked  out, 

"  You're  right,"  he  said.     "  We'll  give  it 
65 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

best  till  morning.  Come,  mate,  let's  spell 
it  while  we  can." 

The  rest  separated  forthwith.  Bethune 
bade  his  future  brother-in-law  good-night 
without  congratulation  or  even  comment  on 
the  discovery  of  the  tracks.  Rigden  lin- 
gered a  moment  with  his  lieutenants,  and 
then  remarked  that  he  had  left  his  coat  in 
the  harness-room ;  he  would  go  and  fetch 
it,  and  might  be  late,  as  he  had  letters  to 
write  for  the  mail. 

"  Can't  I  get  the  coat,  sir  ?  "  asked  the 
willing  jackeroo. 

Rigden  turned  upon  him  with  unique 
irritation. 

"  No,  you  can't !  You  can  go  to  bed 
and  be  jolly  well  up  in  time  to  do  your  part 
to-morrow!  It's  you  I  am  studying,  my 
good  fellow,"  he  made  shift  to  add  in  a 
kindlier  tone ;  "  you  can't  expect  to  do 
your  work  unless  you  get  your  sleep.  And 
I  want  you  to  round  up  every  hoof  in  the 
horse-paddock  by  sunrise,  and  after  that 
every  man  in  the  hut !  " 


66 


VI 

BELOW  ZERO 

"  IVA  AY  I  come  in?" 

It  was  her  brother  at  Moya's 
door,  and  he  began  to  believe  she  must 
be  asleep  after  all.  Theodore  felt  ag- 
grieved ;  he  wanted  speech  with  Moya 
before  he  went  to  bed.  He  was  about  to 
knock  again  when  the  door  was  opened 
without  a  word.  There  was  no  light  in  the 
room.  Yet  the  girl  stood  fully  dressed  in 
the  last  level  rays  of  the  moon.  And  she 
had  been  crying. 

"  Moya !  " 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"  Only  to  speak  to  you." 

"What  about?" 

"  Yourself,  to  begin  with.     What's  the 
trouble,  my  dear  girl  ?  " 

He  had  entered  in  spite  of  her,  and  yet 
she  was  not  really  sorry  that  he  had  come. 

67 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

She  had  suffered  so  much  in  silence  that 
it  would  be  relief  to  speak  about  anything 
to  anybody.  Theodore  was  the  last  per- 
son in  whom  she  could  or  would  confide. 
But  there  was  something  comfortable  in  his 
presence  just  there  and  then.  She  could 
tell  him  a  little,  if  she  could  not  tell  him 
all ;  and  he  could  tell  her  something  in  re- 
turn. 

She  heard  him  at  his  match-box,  and  shut 
the  door  herself  as  he  lit  the  candles. 

"  Don't  speak  loud,  then,"  said  Moya. 
"  I — I'd  rather  they  didn't  hear  us — putting 
our  heads  together." 

*'  No  fear.  We've  got  the  main  building 
to  ourselves,  you  and  I.  Rather  consider- 
ate of  Rigden,  that." 

Indeed  it  was  the  best  parlour  that  had 
been  prepared  for  Moya,  for  in  your  south- 
ern summers  the  best  parlour  of  all  is  the 
shadiest  verandah.  Theodore  took  to  the 
sofa  and  a  cigarette. 

"Do  you  mind?"  he  said.  "Then  do 
please  tell  me  what's  the  matter  with  you, 
Moya !  " 

"  Oh,  can't  you  see?  I'm  so  unhappy !  " 
68 


Below  Zero 

Her  eyes  had  filled,  but  his  next  words 
dried  them. 

"  Had  a  row  with  Rigden?  " 

And  he  was  leaning  forward  without  his 
cigarette. 

Moya  hated  him. 

"  Is  that  all  that  occurs  to  you  ?  "  she 
asked  cuttingly.  "  I'm  sorry  to  disappoint 
you,  I'm  sure !  I  should  have  thought 
even  you  could  have  seen  there  was  enough 
to  make  one  unhappy,  without  the  consum- 
mation you  so  devoutly " 

"Good,  Moya!  That's  all  right,"  said 
her  brother,  as  he  might  have  compli- 
mented her  across  the  net  at  lawn-tennis. 

"  It's  quite  unpleasant  enough,"  con- 
tinued Moya,  with  spirit,  "  without  your 
making  it  worse.  The  police  in  possession, 
and  a  runaway  convict  goodness  knows 
where !  " 

"  I  agree,"  said  Theodore.  "  It  is  un- 
pleasant. I  wonder  where  the  beggar  can 
be?"     • 

"  It's  no  use  asking  me,"  said  Moya ;  for 
the  note  of  interrogation  had  been  in  his 
voice. 

69 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  You  didn't  see  any  suspicious-looking 
loafers,  I  suppose?  I  mean  this  after- 
noon." 

"  How  could  I  ?  I  was  with  Pelham  all 
the  time." 

She  would  never  marry  him,  never! 
That  was  no  reason  why  she  should  give 
him  away.  She  would  never  marry  a  man 
with  discreditable  secrets  which  she  might 
not  share,  not  because  they  were  discredit- 
able, but  for  the  other  reason.  Yet  she 
must  be  a  humbug  for  his  sake !  Moya  felt 
a  well-known  eye  upon  her,  felt  her  face 
bathed  in  fire ;  luckily  her  explanation  itself 
might  account  for  that,  and  she  had  the  wit 
to  see  this  in  time. 

"  I  mean,"  she  stammered,  "  one  was  on 
the  verandah  all  the  afternoon.  Nobody 
could  have  come  without  our  seeing  them." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  Love  is 
blind !  " 

His  tone  carried  relief  to  Moya.  The 
irony  was  characteristic,  normal.  It  struck 
her  as  incompatible  v/ith  any  strong  sus- 
picion. But  the  ground  was  dangerous  all 
the  same. 

70 


Below  Zero 

"  If  we  are  made  uncomfortable,"  said 
Moya,  shifting  it,  "  what  must  it  be  for 
Pelham !  It's  on  his  account  I  feel  so 
miserable." 

And  she  spoke  the  truth;  indeed,  a 
truism ;  but  she  would  be  still  more  miser- 
able if  she  married  him.     She  would  never 

miarry    a    man the    haunting    sentence 

went  for  once  unfinished.  Theodore  was 
favouring  her  with  a  peculiar  scrutiny 
whose  import  she  knew  of  old.  She  was 
on  her  guard  just  in  time. 

"  You  haven't  heard  the  latest  develop- 
ment, I  suppose? " 

"  Has  there  been  something  fresh  since  I 
came  away  ?  " 

And  even  Theodore  did  not  know  that 
she  was  holding  her  breath. 

"  Something  as  fresh  as  paint,"  said  he 
dryly.  "  Rigden  thinks  he's  got  on  the 
fellow's  tracks." 

Moya  had  braced  herself  against  any 
sudden  betrayal  of  alarm ;  she  was  less 
proof  against  the  inrush  of  a  new  contempt 
for  her  lover. 

71 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  You  don't  mean  it !  "  she  cried  with 
indignation. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Theodore  blandly. 

"  Oh,  nothing.  Only  it's  pretty  disgrace- 
ful— on  the  part  of  the  police,  I  mean — 
that  they  should  spend  hours  looking  for 
what  a  mere  amateur  finds  at  once !  " 

The  brother  peeped  at  her  from  lowered 
lids.     He  was  admiring  her  resource. 

"  I  agree,"  he  said  slowly,  "  if — our 
friend  is  right." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ?  "  inquired  Moya, 
up  in  arms  on  the  instant. 

"  Rigden,  of  course." 

"  So  you  think  he  may  be  mistaken  about 
the  tracks,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  it's  possible." 

"  You  know  a  lot  about  such  things 
yourself,  of  course !  You  have  a  wide 
experience  of  the  bush,  haven't  you  ?  What 
do  the  police  think?  " 

"  They're  leaving  it  till  the  morning. 
They  hope  for  the  best." 

"  So  everybody  is  pleased  except  my 
brilliant  brother !  I  want  to  know  why — I 
want  to  know  more  about  these  tracks." 

72 


Below  Zero 

He  told  her  more  with  unruffled  mien  ;  he 
rather  enjoyed  her  sarcasm  ;  it  both  justified 
and  stimulated  his  own.  Sarcasm  he  held 
to  be  the  salt  of  intercourse.  It  was  cer- 
tainly a  game  at  which  two  Bethunes  could 
always  play. 

"  But  we  shall  see  in  the  morning,"  con- 
cluded Theodore.  "The  heathen  is  to  be  put 
upon  the  scent  at  dawn ;  if  he  passes  it,  well 
and  good." 

"  Meanwhile  you  don't  ?  " 

"  No,  I'm  hanged  if  I  do,"  said  Theodore, 
bluntly. 

"  Because  you  haven't  been  to  see?" 

Theodore  smiled. 

"  Because  you  wouldn't  know  a  man's 
track  from  a  monkey's  if  you  went  ?  " 

Theodore  laughed. 

"  Why  drag  in  Darwin,  my  dear  girl  ? 
No,  I've  not  been  to  look,  and  yet  I'm  not 
convinced.  I  just  have  my  doubts,  and  a 
reason  or  so  for  them ;  then  I  haven't  your 
admirable  ground  of  belief  in  the  infalli- 
bility of  our  host's  judgment.  He  may  be 
mistaken.  Mistakes  do  get  made  by 
moonlight.     Let's  put  it  at  that." 

1Z 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

But  Moya  knew  that  he  was  not  putting 
it  at  that  in  his  mind,  and  she  made  up  hers 
to  learn  the  worst  of  his  suspicions. 

"  If  the  tracks  are  not  his,  whose  are 
they  ?  "  she  demanded,  as  though  it  mat- 
tered. "  If  the  creature  is  not  somewhere 
about  the  run,  where  is  he?  " 

And  this  did  matter. 

"  If  you  ask  me,"  said  Theodore,  with 
great  gravity  for  him,  "  I  should  say  that  he 
was  within  a  few  yards  of  us  all  the  time !  " 

"A  few  yards?" 

"  I  should  say,"  repeated  Theodore, 
"  that  he  was  somewhere  about  the  home- 
stead, not  the  run.  And  you  know  per- 
fectly well  that  you  agree !  " 

"I?"    • 

She  jumped  up  in  a  fury. 

"  How  dare  you  say  that  to  me  ?  How 
dare  you,  Theodore?  " 

"  My  dear  Moya,  I'm  at  a  loss  to  under- 
stand you !  "  and  his  eyebrows  underUned 
the  words  into  largest  capitals.  "  How 
on  earth  have  I  offended?  I'm  quite  sure 
that  you  have  the  same  suspicion — not  to 
call  it  fear — that  I  entertain  myself.     If  not, 

74 


Below  Zero 

why  be  in  such  a  state?  Why  not  go  to 
bed  and  to  sleep  like  a  rational  person  ?  I 
confess  I  don't  feel  like  doing  so  myself — 
with  the  chance  of  waking  up  to  find  an 
escaped  criminal  on  your  chest.  I  prefer 
to  sit  up  and  keep  watch.  Tm  convinced 
he's  somewhere  about ;  all  these  huts  afford 
far  better  cover  than  the  open  paddocks, 
bless  you!  He  could  easily  have  slipped 
among  them  without  either  of  you  seeing 
him,  and  the  chances  are  he  has." 

"  If  you  think  that,"  said  Moya,  "  why 
didn't  you  suggest  it  ?  " 

"  I  did — to  Rigden.  Wouldn't  listen  to 
me ;  so,  of  course,  I  can't  expect  you  to  be 
so  disloyal  as  to  do  so  either." 

But  Moya  had  no  more  of  that  kind  of 
fight  in  her.  "  So  you  intend  to  sit  up  and 
watch  ?  "  was  her  sole  rejoinder. 

"  I  do." 

"  Then  so  do  I !  " 

Theodore  looked  dubious,  but  only  for  an 
instant. 

"  You  begin  to  think  there  may  be  some- 
thing in  my  theory?  " 

"  I  think  there — may  be." 
75 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"Then  I'll  tell  you  more!"  exclaimed 
Theodore  with  decision :  "  I  believe  the 
fellow's  over  yonder  in  that  store !  " 

His  eyes  were  waiting  for  her  face  to 
change.  But  it  changed  very  little.  Moya 
was  beginning  to  wonder  whether  her 
terrible  brother  did  not  already  know  all. 
One  moment  she  thought  he  did,  the  next 
that  he  did  not ;  indifference  was  creeping 
over  her  with  the  long-drawn  strain  of  the 
situation.  What  did  it  matter  if  he  did 
know?  It  would  make  no  difference  be- 
tween her  and  Pelham.  That  was  at  an 
end,  in  any  case ;  all  that  was  at  an  end  for 
ever. 

Meanwhile  she  humoured  Theodore  just 
a  little,  particularly  in  the  matter  of  her 
sitting  up.  He  begged  her  not  to  do  so, 
and  she  feigned  consent.  One  of  his  ob- 
jects in  sitting  up  himself  was  to  secure  her 
safety.  He  might  be  wrong  in  all  his  con- 
jectures, and  Rigden  might  be  right.  Theo- 
dore was  none  the  less  virtuously  deter- 
mined not  to  give  a  chance  away. 

"  And  if  I  am  right  I'll  nab  him  the  mo- 
ment he  shows  his  nose ;  and  the  credit  will 

76 


Below  Zero 

belong  to  your  humble  brother.  It  isn't 
as  if  I  hadn't  mentioned  my  general  ideas 
to  Rigden ;  otherwise  it  might  be  rather 
much  to  take  upon  one's  self ;  but  as  it  is  I 
have  no  scruples.  If  nothing  happens,  I've 
simply  been  sleeping  on  the  verandah,  be- 
cause it's  cooler  there,  and  that  long  chair's 
as  good  as  any  bed.  Do  you  mind  doing 
something  for  me,  Moya?" 

"What  is  it?" 

"  My  room's  at  the  back,  as  you  know ; 
do  you  mind  keeping  a  look-out  while  I  go 
round  and  get  into  my  pyjamas?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  mind." 

"  Particularly  on  the  store,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

"  If  anything  happens  come  straight  to 
me,  but  as  quietly  as  possible." 

"  Very  well." 

"  I  mean  if  you  see  anybody." 

"  Yes." 

"  But  I  shan't  be  many  minutes." 

And  he  was  gone. 

At  last ! 

Moya  flung  herself  upon  the  bed,  and  lay 
for  a  few  seconds  with  closed  eyes.     Her 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

forehead  was  wondrous  white ;  the  fine  eye- 
brows and  the  long  lashes  seemed  suddenly 
to  have  gone  black ;  the  girl  was  fainting 
under  the  triple  strain  of  fear  and  shame 
and  outraged  love.  Yes,  she  was  in  love, 
but  she  would  never  marry  him.  Never! 
It  was  the  irony  of  her  fate  to  love  a  man 
whom  she  would  rather  die  than  marry, 
after  this !  Yet  she  loved  him  none  the 
less ;  that  was  the  last  humiliation  of  women 
whom  she  had  scorned  all  her  days  for  this 
very  thing,  only  to  become  one  of  them  in 
the  end. 

But  she  at  least  would  never  marry  the 
man  she  loved  and  yet  despised.  That 
would  be  the  only  difference,  yet  a  fairly 
essential  one.  And  now  her  strength  was 
renewed  with  her  resolve,  so  that  she  was 
up  and  doing  within  the  few  seconds  afore- 
said ;  her  first  act  was  to  blow  out  the 
candle ;  her  next,  to  open  the  door  an  inch 
and  to  take  her  stand  at  the  opening. 

Nor  was  she  much  too  soon.  It  was  as 
though  Rigden  had  been  only  waiting  for 
her  light  to  go  out.  Within  a  minute  he 
appeared  in  the  sandy  space  between  the 

78 


Below  Zero 

main  building  and  the  store.  He  was  again 
wearing  the  yellow  silk  dust-coat  of  which 
enough  has  been  heard;  it  was  almost  all 
that  could  be  seen  of  him  in  the  real  dark- 
ness which  had  fallen  with  the  setting  of 
the  moon, 

Moya  heard  his  key  in  the  heavy  door 
opposite.  Should  she  tell  him  of  Theo- 
dore's suspicions,  or  should  she  not? 
While  she  hesitated,  he  let  himself  in, 
took  out  the  key,  and  once  more  locked 
the  door  behind  him.  Next  moment  a 
thread  of  light  appeared  upon  the  thresh- 
old; and,  too  late,  Moya  repented  her  in- 
decision. 

Theodore  would  return,  and  then 

But  for  once  he  was  singularly  slow; 
minute  followed  minute,  and  there  was 
neither  sign  nor  sound  of  him. 

And  presently  the  store  door  opened 
once  more;  the  figure  in  the  dust-coat 
emerged  as  it  had  entered;  and  vanished 
as  it  had  appeared,  in  the  direction  of  the 
horse-yard. 

Once  more  the  door  was  shut ;  but,  once 
more,   that    thread   of   incriminating   light 

79 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

burnt  like  a  red-hot  wire  beneath.  And 
this  time  Moya  could  not  see  it  burn:  the 
red-hot  wire  had  entered  her  soul.  Theo- 
dore had  been  so  long,  he  might  be  longer ; 
risk  it  she  must,  and  take  the  consequences. 
Two  steps  carried  her  across  the  verandah ; 
lighter  she  had  never  taken  in  a  ball-room, 
where  her  reputation  was  that  of  a  feather. 
Once  in  the  kindly  sand,  however,  she  ran 
desperately,  madly,  to  the  horse-yard.  And 
she  was  just  in  time  to  hear  the  dying  beat 
of  a  horse's  canter  into  infinity. 

Then  she  must  inform  the  wretch  himself, 
the  runaway  rufhan  in  the  store !  One  sob 
came,  and  then  this  quick  resolve. 

She  gained  the  store,  panting;  and  in- 
stinctively tried  the  door  before  knocking. 
To  her  amazement  and  alarm  it  was  open. 
She  stood  confounded  on  the  threshold,  and 
a  head  bending  over  the  desk,  under  the 
lamp,  behind  the  counter,  was  suddenly 
transformed  into  a  face.  And  it  was  not 
the  runaway  at  all ;  it  was  Rigden  himself ! 

"  I  saw  you  come  out !  "  she  gasped,  past 
recrimination,  past  anger,  past  memory 
itself    in    the    semi-insensibility    of    over- 

80 


Below  Zero 

whelming    surprise.      He    looked    at    her 
very  gravely  across  the  desk. 

"  No,  that  was  the  man  who  has  wrecked 
my  life,"  he  said.  "  I've  got  him  through 
them  at  last,  I  do  believe." 

And  his  eyes  flashed  their  unworthy 
triumph. 

"  You  could  actually  give  him  your 
horse !  " 

"  I  wish  I  could.  It  would  be  missed  in 
a  minute.  No,  he's  only  just  to  run  the 
gauntlet  on  it,  and  I  shall  find  it  at  the  first 
gate.  But  what  is  it,  Moya?  You  came 
for  something?"  and  he  was  a  miserable 
man  once  more. 

"  I'm  ashamed  to  say  why  I  came — but 
I  will !  "  cried  Moya  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  did 
not  want  you  to  be  found  out  through  my 
own  brother.  He  suspected  the  man  was 
in  here — I  don't  know  why.  He  was 
going  to  watch  the  store  all  night,  and  I 
was  watching  it  for  him  while  he  changed, 
and  the  light  under  the  door " 

Rigden  held  up  his  hand. 

"Hush!"  he  said.  "Here  is  your 
brother." 

8i 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

Theodore  was  more  than  decent ;  he  was 
positively  gorgeous  in  striped  and  tasselled 
silk.  He  stood  in  the  doorway  with  ex- 
pressive eyebrows  and  eloquent  nostrils, 
looking  from  Moya  to  Rigden  until  his 
gaze  settled  upon  the  latter.  It  was  almost 
an  innocuous  gaze  by  then. 

"  So  it  was  you  in  here,"  he  said.  Rig- 
den nodded.  "  Do  you  know  who  I  was 
ass  enough  to  think  it  was?"  continued 
Theodore,  using  a  word  which  Moya 
had  never  heard  him  apply  to  himself 
before,  even  in  fun.  "  Has  Moya  told 
you?" 

"  She  has." 

"  I  saw  the  light,"  said  Moya,  in  elliptical 
explanation.  Theodore  continued  to  ad- 
dress his  host. 

"  I  oughtn't  to  have  interfered,"  he  said, 
with  a  humility  which  was  already  arous- 
ing Moya's  suspicions.  "  I  should  have 
minded  my  own  business,  Rigden,  and  I 
apologise.  I'd  got  it  into  my  head — I 
can't  tell  you  why.  Will  you  forgive  me? 
And  have  you  any  more  whisky  ?  " 

"  I've  nothing  to  forgive,"  said  Rigden, 
82 


Below  Zero 

sincerely  enough.  "  But  a  drink  we'll  have ; 
that's  an  excellent  idea !  " 

But  the  counter  was  between  them,  and 
Theodore  was  the  first  to  leave  the  store  ; 
but  on  the  threshold  he  stopped,  and  just 
turned  to  Moya  for  an  instant. 

"  By  the  way,  you  didn't  see  anybody 
else,  I  suppose?  "  said  he. 

There  was  an  instant's  pause.  Then 
Moya  committed  her  sin. 

"  Of  course  I  didn't,"  were  the  words. 

Theodore  strolled  over  to  the  verandah. 
Moya  waited  behind  as  in  devotion  while 
Rigden  locked  that  fatal  door  for  the  last 
time. 

"  You  see  what  you've  brought  me  to !  " 
she  hissed.  "  But  don't  think  it's  because 
I  care  a  bit  what  happens  to  you — once  I'm 
gone.  And  I  hate  you  for  it — and  I  always 
shall !  " 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said. 

And  that  was  all. 


83 


VII 

A   CAVALIER 

]\A  OYA  went  to  bed  like  one  already  in  a 
dream.  She  smiled  when  she  real- 
ised what  she  was  doing;  there  would  be 
no  sleep  for  her  that  night.  Yet  she  went 
through  with  the  empty  form,  even  to 
putting  out  the  light  to  rest  her  aching 
eyes.  And  in  five  minutes  her  troubles 
ceased  for  as  many  hours ;  she  had  passed 
that  pitch  of  excitement  which  is  another 
name  for  insomnia ;  she  had  reached  the 
stage  of  sheer  exhaustion,  and  she  reaped 
the  recompense. 

Spurred  feet  treading  gingerly  neverthe- 
less awoke  her  towards  dawn.  It  was  a 
bitter  awakening.  Further  sleep  was  im- 
possible, further  rest  intolerable ;  besides, 
something  must  be  done  at  once.  It  was 
an  ordeal  to  face,  but  sooner  or  later  Theo- 
dore must  be  told,  and  then — good-bye! 

84 


A  Cavalier 

Obviously  the  sooner  the  better,  since  the 
thing  was  settled  between  the  two  whom  it 
concerned ;  and  Moya  had  the  tempera- 
ment which  prefers  to  precipitate  the 
absolutely  inevitable ;  but  temperament 
for  once  was  not  her  lord.  It  was  too 
hard! 

Character  came  to  the  rescue.  It  must 
be  done.  And  Moya  dressed  by  candle- 
light with  a  craven  but  a  resolute  heart. 

Meanwhile  the  cautious  footsteps  and  the 
low  voices  died  away ;  and  the  girl  found  a 
bare  verandah,  chill  and  silent  as  a  vault 
in  the  twiHght  of  early  morning,  A  lamp 
was  burning  in  the  dining-room,  but  the 
chairs  were  pushed  back,  crusts  left,  and 
tea-cups  half  full.  The  teapot  felt  quite 
heavy ;  and  Moya  took  a  cup  and  a  bite 
before  going  to  see  whether  Theodore  was 
awake.  If  not,  she  must  wake  him,  for  she 
could  not  wait.  But  his  room  was  deserted ; 
his  very  boots  were  gone ;  and  the  craven 
heart  leapt,  for  all  its  resolution. 

Moya  returned  to  the  verandah  in  time 
to  see  the  new  chum,  Ives,  coming  at  a 
canter  through  the  pines.     She  cut  him  off 

85 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

at  the  barracks,  where,  however,  he  flung 
himself  from  the  saddle  and  almost  into 
her  arms. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Bethune ! 
Forgotten  something  as  usual,  you  see !  " 

Hurry  and  worry  were  behind  his  smile. 
Yet  Moya  had  the  heart  to  detain  him. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Ives.  Where's 
everybody  ?  " 

"  Gone  mustering." 

"  Not  my  brother  ?  " 

"  No ;  he's  gone  with  the  police." 

"  The  police." 

"  You  know,  they've  gone  to  follow  up 
some  tracks " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know !  "  cried  Moya. 

So  Theodore  was  hand-in-glove  with  the 
enemy !  Not  that  the  police  were  the 
enemy  at  all ;  they  were  only  his  enemies ; 
but  the  fact  remained  that  Theodore  was 
one  of  them.  Very  likely  he  had  already 
made  them  a  present  of  his  suspicions ; 
nothing  likelier,  or  more  fitting,  than  the 
exposure  of  her  "  lover  "  through  her  own 
brother's  agency.  It  will  be  seen  that  her 
bitterness  against  one  was  rapidly  embitter- 

86 


A  Cavalier 

ing  Moya's  view  of  all  and  sundry.  She 
was  not  original  in  that. 

"  I  forgot  my  water-bag,"  the  jackeroo 
remarked.  "  I  shall  have  to  gallop  to  catch 
them  up." 

But  he  was  too  polite  to  move. 

"  Must  you  catch  them  up  ?  "  inquired 
Moya,  in  flattering  dumps :  but  indeed  it 
would  be  deadly  at  the  station  all  day,  and 
such  a  day,  without  a  soul  to  speak  to ! 

"  Well,  they  won't  wait  for  me,  because 
they  told  me  what  to  do/'  said  Ives  on 
reflection. 

"  And  what  have  you  to  do  ?  "  asked 
Moya,  smiling. 

"  Go  down  the  fence ;  it's  easiest,  you 
know." 

"  But  what  are  you  all  going  to  do  ? 
What  does  this  mustering  mean  ?  " 

Ives  determined  in  his  own  mind  to  blow 
the  odds.  He  was  not  only  a  gentleman ; 
he  was  a  young  man ;  and  Miss  Bethune 
should  have  all  the  information  she  wanted 
and  he  could  give.  Ives  began  to  appre- 
ciate her  attractions,  and  Rigden's  good 
fortune,  for  the  first  time  as  they  deserved. 

87 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

It  would  be  another  place  after  the  mar- 
riage. She  was  a  ripper  when  you  got  her 
to  yourself. 

Aloud  he  explained  the  mustering  as 
though  he  had  the  morning  to  spare.  It 
meant  sweeping  up  all  the  sheep  in  a  given 
paddock,  either  to  count  them  out,  or  to 
shift  them  altogether  if  feed  or  water  was 
failing  where  they  were.  A  big  job  in  any 
case,  but  especially  so  in  Big  Bushy,  which 
was  by  far  the  largest  paddock  on  Eureka ; 
it  was  seven  miles  by  seven. 

"  And  do  you  generally  go  mustering 
at  a  night's  notice  ?  " 

"  No,  as  a  rule  we  know  about  it  for  days 
before ;  but  last  night  the  boss — I  beg  your 
pardon " 

"What  for?"  said  Moya.  "I  like  to 
hear  him  called  that." 

And  she  would  have  liked  it,  she  hardly 
knew  why.  But  he  was  not  her  boss,  and 
never  would  be. 

"  Thanks  awfully.  Well,  then,  the  boss 
found  a  tank  lower  than  he  expected  in 
Butcher-boy,  that's  the  killing-sheep  pad- 
dock, and  it's  next  door  to   Big   Bushy, 

88 


A  Cavalier 

which  is  stocked  with  our  very  best.  If  the 
tanks  were  low  in  Butcher-boy,  they  might 
be  lower  still  in  Big  Bushy " 

"Why?"  asked  Moya,  Hke  a  good 
Bethune. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know ;  only  the  boss  seemed 
to  think  so ;  and  of  course  it  wouldn't  do  to 
let  our  best  sheep  bog.  So  we've  got  to 
shift  every  hoof  into  Westwells,  where 
there's  the  best  water  on  the  run." 

Moya  said  no  more.  This  seemed  gen- 
uine. Only  she  was  suspicious  now  of 
every  move  of  Rigden's ;  she  could  not 
help  it. 

"  And  why  must  you  have  a  water-bag?  " 
she  asked,  for  asking's  sake. 

"  Oh,  we  never  go  without  one  in  this 
heat.  The  boss  won't  let  us.  So  of  course 
I  went  and  forgot  mine.  I'm  no  good  in 
the  bush.  Miss  Bethune  !  " 

"Not  even  at  mustering?"  asked  sym- 
pathetic Moya. 

"  Why,  Miss  Bethune,  that's  the  hardest 
thing  of  the  lot,  and  it's  where  I'm  least 
use.  It's  my  sight,"  said  the  young  fellow 
ruefully ;  "  I'm  as  blind  as  a  mole.     You 

89 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

ought  to  be  able  to  see  sheep  at  three  miles, 
but  I  can't  swear  to  them  at  three  hundred 
yards." 

"  That's  a  drawback,"  said  Moya,  look- 
ing thoughtfully  at  the  lad. 

"  It  is,"  sighed  he.  "  Then  I  haven't  a 
dog,  when  I  do  see  'em ;  altogether  it's  no 
sinecure  for  me,  though  they  do  give  me 
the  fence;  and — and  I'm  afraid  I  really 
ought  to  be  making  a  start.  Miss  Bethune." 

The  outward  eye  of  Moya  was  still  fixed 
upon  him,  but  what  it  really  saw  was  her- 
self upon  that  lonely  verandah  all  day  long 
— waiting  for  the  next  nice  development 
— and  waiting  alone. 

"  I  have  excellent  eyes,"  she  observed  at 
length. 

"  To  say  the  least !  "  cried  her  cavalier. 

"  I  meant  for  practical  purposes,"  re- 
joined Moya,  with  severity.  "  I'm  sure 
that  I  could  see  sheep  at  three  miles." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  he  enviously. 

"  And  I  see  you  have  a  spare  horse  in  the 
yard." 

"  Yes,  in  case  of  accidents." 

"  And  I  know  you  have  a  lady's  saddle." 
90 


A  Cavalier 

"  It  was  got  for  you." 

Moya  winced,  but  her  desire  was  un- 
diminished. 

"  I  mean  to  be  the  accident,  Mr.  Ives," 
said  she. 

"And  come  mustering?"  he  cried. 
"  And  be  my — my " 

"  The  very  eyes  of  you,"  said  Moya, 
nodding.  "  I  shall  be  ready  in  three  min- 
utes !  " 

And  she  left  him  staring,  and  bereft  of 
breath,  but  flushed  as  much  with  pleasure 
as  with  the  rosy  glow  of  the  Riverina  sun- 
rise which  fell  upon  him  even  as  she  spoke ; 
she  was  on  the  verandah  before  he  re- 
covered his  self-possession. 

"  Your  horse  '11  be  ready  in  two !  "  he 
bawled,  and  rushed  to  make  good  his  word. 
Moya  had  to  remind  him  of  the  water-bag 
after  all. 

First  and  last  she  had  not  delayed  him  so 
very  long,  and  the  red  blob  of  a  sun  was 
but  clear  of  the  horizon  when  they  obtained 
their  first  unimpeded  view  of  it.  This  was 
when  they  looked  back  from  the  gate  lead- 
ing into  Butcher-boy :  the  homestead  pines 

91 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

still  ran  deep  into  the  red,  and  an  ink-pot 
would  still  have  yielded  their  hue. 

In  Butcher-boy,  which  was  three  miles 
across,  there  was  nothing  for  them  to  do 
but  to  ride  after  their  shadows  and  to  talk 
as  they  rode,  neck  and  neck,  along  the 
fluted  yellow  ribbon  miscalled  a  road,  be- 
tween tufts  of  sea-green  saltbush  and  far- 
away clumps  of  trees. 

"  I  wish  I  wasn't  such  a  dufifer  in  the 
bush,"  said  Ives,  resolved  to  make  the  most 
of  the  first  lady  he  had  met  for  months. 
"  The  rum  thing  is  that  I'm  frightfully 
keen  on  the  life." 

"  Are  you  really  ?  "  queried  Moya,  and 
she  was  interested  on  her  own  account,  for 
what  might  have  been. 

"  Honestly,"  said  Ives,  "  though  I  begin 
to  see  it  isn't  the  life  for  me.  The  whole 
thing  appeals  to  one,  somehow ;  getting  up 
in  the  middle  of  the  night  (though  it  was  an 
awful  bore),  running  up  the  horses  (though 
I  can't  even  crack  a  stock-whip),  and  just 
now  the  station  trees  against  the  sunrise. 
It's  so  open  and  fresh  and  free,  and  unlike 
everything  else ;  it  gets  at  me  to  the  core ; 

92 


A  Cavalier 

but,   of  course,   they   don't   give   me   my 
rations  for  that." 

"  Should  you  really  Hke  to  spend  all  your 
days  here  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  I 
were  to  spend  half  my  nights  here  for  the 
term  of  my  natural  life !  I  shall  come  back 
to  these  paddocks  in  my  dreams.  I  can't 
tell  why,  but  I  feel  it  in  my  bones ;  it's  the 
light,  the  smell,  the  extraordinary  sense  of 
space,  and  all  the  little  things  as  well.  The 
dust  and  scuttle  of  the  sheep  when  two  or 
three  are  gathered  together ;  it's  really 
beastly,  but  I  shall  smell  it  and  hear  it  till 
I  die." 

Moya  glanced  sidelong  at  her  com- 
panion, and  all  was  enthusiasm  behind  the 
dusty  spectacles.  There  was  something  in 
this  new  chum  after  all.  Moya  wondered 
what. 

"  You're  not  going  to  stick  to  it,  then  ?  " 

Ives  laughed. 

"  I'm  afraid  it  won't  stick  to  me.  I  can't 
see  sheep,  I'm  no  real  good  with  horses,  and 
I  couldn't  even  keep  the  station  books ;  the 
owner  said  my  education  had  been  sadly 

93 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

neglected  (one  for  Rugby,  that  was !)  when 
he  was  up  here  the  other  day.  It's  only 
through  Mr.  Rigden's  good-nature  that  I'm 
hanging  on,  and  because — I — can't — tear 
myself  away." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  doing  event- 
ually?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  shall  go  home 
again,  I  suppose ;  I  only  came  out  for  the 
voyage.  After  that,  goodness  knows;  I 
was  no  real  use  at  school  either." 

Insensibly  the  rocking-chair  canter  of  the 
bush  horses  had  lapsed  into  the  equally  easy 
amble  which  is  well-nigh  their  one  alterna- 
tive ;  and  the  shadows  were  shortening,  and 
the  back  of  the  neck  and  the  ears  were 
beginning  to  burn.  The  jackeroo  was 
sweeping  the  horizon  for  pure  inexplicable 
delight  in  its  dirty  greens  and  yellows ;  but 
had  quite  forgotten  that  he  ought  already 
to  have  been  scouring  it  for  sheep. 

"  And  so  the  boss  is  good-natured,  is 
he  ?  "  said  Moya,  she  could  not  have  told 
herself  why ;  for  she  would  not  have  ad- 
mitted that  it  could  afford  her  any  further 
satisfaction  to  hear  his  praises. 

94 


A  Cavalier 

"  Good-natured  ?  "  cried  the  jackeroo. 
"  He's  all  that  and  much  more ;  there's 
not  a  grander  or  a  straighter  chap  in 
Riverina,  and  we  all  swear  by  him ;  but — 
well,  he  is  the  boss,  and  let's  you  know 
it." 

A  masterful  man ;  and  Moya  had  wanted 
her  master  all  these  years !  She  asked  no 
more  questions,  and  they  rode  a  space  in 
silence,  Ives  glancing  sidelong  in  his  turn, 
and  in  his  heart  congratulating  Rigden 
more  and  more. 

"  By  Jove,"  he  cried  at  last,  "  I  think  I 
shall  have  to  get  you  to  use  your  influence 
on  my  behalf!  " 

"  For  what  ? "  asked  Moya,  wincing 
again. 

"  Another  chance !  They  mustn't  give 
me  the  sack  just  yet — I  must  be  here  when 
you  come.  It's  the  one  thing  we  need — a 
lady.  It's  the  one  thing  he  needs  to  make 
him  as  nearly  perfect  as  it's  comfortable  for 
other  people  for  a  man  to  be.  And  I  sim- 
ply must  be  here  to  see." 

"  Let's  canter,"  said  Moya.  The  blood 
came  rushing  to  his  face. 

95 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  I  apologise,"  he  cried.  "  It  was  horrid 
cheek  of  me,  I  know !  " 

Moya's  reassuring  smile  was  all  kindly, 
and  not  all  forced ;  indeed,  the  tears  were 
very  close  to  the  surface,  and  she  could  not 
trust  herself  to  say  much. 

"  Not  cheek  at  all,"  was  what  she  did  say, 
with  vigour.  "  Only — you'll  change  your 
mind." 

With  that  her  eyes  glistened  for  an  in- 
stant ;  and  young  Ives  loved  her  himself. 
But  neither  of  them  was  sorry  when  an- 
other gate  grew  large  above  the  horses' ears, 
with  posts  and  wires  dwindling  into  per- 
spective on  either  side  to  mark  the  east- 
ern frontier  of  Big  Bushy. 


96 


VIII 

THE   KIND   OF   LIFE 

"  MOW  what  do  we  do,  Mr.  Ives?  " 

He  had  shut  the  gate  and  joined 
her  on  a  sandy  eminence,  whence  Moya 
was  seeking  to  prove  the  excellence  of  her 
eyesight  at  the  very  outset.  But  the  pad- 
dock had  not  got  its  name  for  nothing;  it 
was  overrun  with  the  sombre  scrub,  short 
and  thick  as  lichen  on  a  rock ;  and  from  the 
open  spaces  no  sheep  swam  into  Moya's 
ken. 

"Turn  sharp  to  the  left,  and  follow  the 
fence,"  replied  the  jackeroo. 

"  But  I  can't  see  a  solitary  sheep !  " 
"  No,  because  you're  looking  slap  into 
the  paddock;  that's  the  ground  the  others 
are  going  over,  and  they've  already  cleared 
it  as  far  as  we  can  see  for  the  scrub.  Each 
man  takes  his  own  line  of  country  from  this 
gate  to  the  one  opposite — seven  miles  away 

97 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

— and  collects  every  hoof  on  the  way.  My 
line  is  the  left-hand  fence.  Got  to  keep  it 
in  sight,  and  drive  everything  down  it,  and 
right  round  to  the  gate." 

"  Well,  my  line  is  yours,"  said  Moya, 
smiling;  and  they  struck  ofif  together  from 
the  track. 

"  It's  the  long  way  round,  but  we  can't 
miss  it,"  said  Ives ;  "  all  we  have  to  do  is  to 
hug  the  fence.  Slightly  inglorious,  but  I'd 
rather  that  than  make  a  fool  of  myself  in 
the  middle." 

"  Is  it  so  very  difficult  to  ride  straight 
through  the  bush  ?  " 

"  The  most  difficult  thing  in  the  world. 
Why,  only  the  other  week " 

"  I  see  some!  " 

The  girl  was  pointing  with  her  riding- 
switch,  to  make  other  use  of  it  next  instant. 
Her  mount,  a  shaggy-looking  roan  mare, 
as  yet  imperfectly  appreciated  by  Moya, 
proved  unexpectedly  open  to  persuasion, 
and  found  her  gallop  in  a  stride.  Ives 
followed,  though  he  could  see  nothing  but 
sand  and  saltbush  in  the  direction  indi- 
cated.    Sheep    there    were,    however,    and 

98 


The  Kind  of  Life 

a  fair  mob  of  them,  whose  behaviour  was 
worthy  of  their  kind.  In  all  docility  they 
stood  until  the  last  instant,  then  broke  into 
senseless  stampede,  with  the  horses  at  their 
stubby  tails. 

"  Round  them  up,"  cried  Ives,  "  but  look 
out!  That  mare  can  turn  in  her  own 
length,  and  will  when  they  do !  " 

The  warning  was  timely  to  the  very 
second :  almost  simultaneously  the  sheep 
doubled,  and  round  spun  both  horses  as  in 
the  air.  Moya  jerked  and  swayed,  but 
kept  her  seat.  Ives  headed  the  mob  for 
the  fence,  and  for  the  moment  the  nonsense 
was  out  of  them. 

"  Bravo,  Miss  Bethune ! "  said  he. 
"  You'll  make  a  better  bushman  than  ever 
I  should." 

Moya  clouded  Uke  an  April  sky;  the 
instant  before  she  had  been  deliciously 
flushed  and  excited.  Her  companion, 
however,  was  happily  intent  upon  his 
sheep. 

"  That's  the  way  to  start,"  he  said,  "  with 
fifty  or  sixty  at  one  swoop ;  you  can  work 
a  mob  like  that;  it's  the  five  or  six  that 

99 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

give  the  trouble.  I  have  reason  to  know! 
There's  a  corner  of  one  of  the  paddocks  in 
our  South  Block  where  a  few  of  the  dufTers 
have  a  meet  every  morning,  just  because 
there's  some  water  they  can  smell  across 
the  fence ;  won't  draw  to  their  own  water 
at  the  opposite  corner  of  their  own  pad- 
dock, not  they !  No,  there  they'd  stick  and 
die  of  thirst  if  one  of  us  wasn't  sent  to  rout 
them  out.  It  was  my  billet  every  day  last 
week,  and  a  tougher  one  I  never  want. 
One  time  there  was  less  than  half  a  dozen 
of  'em :  think  of  driving  five  weak  sheep 
through  eight  or  nine  miles  of  scrub  with- 
out a  dog!  It  would  be  ten  miles  if  I  fol- 
lowed both  fences  religiously ;  but  I'm 
getting  so  that  I  can  cut  ofif  a  pretty  fair 
corner.  Yes,  it's  pretty  hard  graft,  as 
they  say  up  here,  a  day  like  that ;  but  your 
water-bag  holds  nectar,  while  it  lasts;  and 
may  your  wedding-cake  taste  as  good  as 
the  bit  of  browny  under  a  pine.  Miss 
Bethune !  " 

"  What's  browny?  "  asked  Moya  hastily. 

"  Raisins  and  baking-powder,"  said  Ives, 
with  a  laugh ;  "  but  I've   got  enough  for 

100 


The  Kind  of  Life 

two  in  my  pocket,  so  you  shall  sample  it 
whenever  you  like.  By  the  way,  aren't  you 
thirsty  yet  ?  " 

Moya  was. 

"  It's  the  dust  from  the  sheep,  which  you 
profess  to  relish,  Mr.  Ives." 

"  Only  because  it's  like  no  other  dust," 
explained  the  connoisseur.  "  And  water- 
bag  water's  like  no  other  kind." 
,  The  canvas  bag  was  wet  and  heavy  as  he 
detached  it  from  the  saddle  and  handed  it 
to  Moya  after  drawing  the  cork  from  the 
glass  mouthpiece ;  and  from  the  latter 
Moya  drank  as  to  the  manner  born,  the 
moist  bag  shrinking  visibly  between  her 
hands. 

"  Steady !  "  cried  Ives,  "  or  we  shall 
perish  of  thirst  before  we  strike  the  gate. 
Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  A  little  canvassy,  but  I  never  tasted 
anything  cooler,  or  more  delicious,"  said 
Moya  in  all  sincerity,  for  already  the  sun 
was  high,  and  the  dry  heat  of  it  stupendous. 

The  jackeroo  sighed  as  he  replaced  the 
cork  after  a  very  modest  sip. 

"  Ah !  "  said  he,  "  I  wish  we  were  taking 
lOI 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

sheep  to  water  in  the  paddock  I  was  telling 
you  about !  Long  before  you  get  to  their 
water,  you  strike  a  covered-in  tank,  that  is 
if  you  cut  off  your  corner  properly  and  hit 
the  other  fence  in  the  right  place.  It's 
really  more  like  a  well,  without  much  water 
in  it,  but  with  a  rope  and  a  bucket  with 
a  hole  in  it.  That  bucket's  the  thing!  You 
fill  it  a  bumper,  but  it  runs  out  faster  than 
it  comes  up,  and  you're  lucky  if  you  can 
pour  a  wineglassful  into  the  crown  of  your 
hat ;  but  that  wineglassful's  sweeter  than 
the  last  drop  from  the  bag;  it's  sweeter 
than  honey  from  the  honeycomb,  and  I 
shall  say  so  all  my  life !  " 

The  boy's  enthusiasm  was  very  hard  on 
Moya.  It  pricked  every  impression  deep 
in  her  heart  for  ever;  she  caught  the  con- 
tagion of  his  acute  receptivity,  upon  which 
the  veriest  trifles  stamped  themselves  with 
indelible  definition ;  and  it  was  the  same 
with  her.  She  felt  that  she  should  never 
quite  lose  the  sharp  sensations  of  this  one 
day  of  real  bush  life,  her  first  and  her  last. 

Down  the  fence  they  fell  in  with  frequent 
stragglers,  and  the  mob  absorbed  them  in 

102 


The  Kind  of  Life 

its  sweep ;  then  Moya  made  a  sortie  to 
the  right,  and  Ives  lost  sight  of  her  through 
the  cloud  of  dust  in  which  she  rode,  till  the 
beat  of  hoofs  came  back  with  a  scuttle  of 
trotters,  and  the  mob  was  swollen  by  a 
score  at  least,  and  the  thickening  cloud 
pierced  by  Moya  radiant  with  success. 
Her  habit  was  powdered  as  with  sullen 
gold,  and  the  brown  gold  streamed  in 
strands  from  her  adorable  head.  Ives  wor- 
shipped her  across  the  yellow  gulf  between 
their  horses. 

"Where's  the  dog?"  she  asked.  "I'm 
certain  that  I  heard  one  barking." 

He  turned  his  head  and  she  heard  it  again, 
while  the  lagging  rearguard  broke  into  a 
run. 

"  Yet  you  say  you  are  no  bushman !  " 
remonstrated  Moya.  "  No  wonder  you 
can  do  without  a  four-wheeled  dog !  " 

"  It's  my  one  worthy  accomplishment," 
said  the  barker,  modestly  ;  "  picked  it  up  in 
that  other  paddock ;  simply  dumb  with  it, 
sometimes,  when  I  strike  the  covered-in 
well  I  was  telling  you  about.  But  here  we 
are  at  the  corner ;  there's  a  seven-mile  fence 

103 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

to  travel  now,  and  then  as  much  again  as 
we've  done  already.  Sure  you  can  stand  it, 
Miss  Bethune  ?  " 

"  Is  there  any  water  on  the  way,  if  we 
run  short  ?  "  queried  Moya. 

Ives  considered. 

"  Well,  there's  an  abandoned  whim  in  the 
far  corner,  at  the  end  of  this  fence ;  the 
hut's  a  ruin,  but  the  four-hundred-gallon 
tank  belonging  to  it  was  left  good  for  the 
sake  of  anybody  who  might  turn  up 
thirsty.  Of  course  it  may  be  empty,  but 
we'll  see." 

"  We'll  chance  it,  Mr.  Ives,  and  have 
another  drink  now !  " 

For  it  was  nearing  noon,  and  beyond  the 
reek  of  the  travelling  mob,  now  some 
couple  of  hundred  strong,  the  lower  air 
quivered  as  though  molten  metal  lay  cooling 
in  the  sand.  Moya  had  long  since  peeled 
off  her  riding  gloves,  and  already  the  backs 
of  her  hands  were  dreadfully  inflamed. 
But  the  day  would  be  her  first  and  last  in 
the  real  bush ;  she  would  see  it  through. 
She  never  felt  inclined  to  turn  back  but 
once,  and  that  was  when  a  sheep  fell  gasp- 

104 


The  Kind  of  Life 

ing  by  the  way,  its  eyes  glazed  and  the 
rattle  in  its  neck.  Moya  insisted  on  the 
remnant  of  water  being  poured  down  its 
throat  and  the  tears  were  on  her  cheeks 
when  they  rounded  up  the  mob  once 
more,  leaving  a  carcass  behind  them  after 
all,  and  the  blue  crows  settling  on  the 
fence. 

Otherwise  the  seven  miles  were  unevent- 
fuh  travelling ;  for  even  Moya's  eyes  dis- 
cerned few  more  sheep  on  their  side  of  the 
wires ;  and  beyond  these,  to  the  left,  was 
the  long  and  ragged  edge  of  a  forest  so 
dense  (though  low)  that  Moya,  riding  with 
Ives  at  the  tail  of  the  mob,  said  it  was  no 
wonder  there  were  no  sheep  at  all  on  the 
other  side. 

"  Oh,  but  that's  not  Eureka  over  there," 
explained  Ives ;  "  that's  the  worst  bit  of 
country  in  the  whole  of  Riverina.  No  one 
will  take  it  up ;  it's  simply  fenced  in  by  the 
fences  of  the  blocks  all  round." 

Moya  asked  what  it  was  called.  The 
name  seemed  familiar  to  her.  It  was  Blind 
Man's  Block. 

"  Ah !  I  know,"  she  said  presently,  sup- 
105 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

pressing  a  sigh.     "  I  heard  them  speaking 
of  it  on  the  verandah  last  night." 

"  Yes,  Spicer  was  advising  your  brother 
to  sample  it  if  he  wanted  an  adventure ;  but 
don't  you  let  him,  Miss  Bethune.  I  wouldn't 
lose  sight  of  the  fence  in  Blind  Man's  Block 
for  all  I'm  ever  likely  to  be  worth:  there 
was  a  man's  skeleton  found  there  just  be- 
fore I  came,  and  goodness  knows  how 
many  there  are  that  never  will  be  found. 
Aha!  there's  the  whim  at  last.  I'm  jolly 
glad !  " 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Moya,  with  a  little 
shudder ;  and  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  some 
bold  black  timbers  that  cut  the  sky  like  a 
scafTold  a  mile  or  two  ahead ;  yet  more  than 
once  her  eyes  returned  to  the  line  of  dingy 
scrub  across  the  fence  to  the  left,  as  if 
fascinated  by  its  sinister  repute. 

"  We  must  bustle  them  along,  by  Jove !  " 
exclaimed  Ives,  and  he  yelped  and  barked 
with  immediate  effect.  "  You  can't  do 
more  than  a  couple  of  miles  an  hour  with 
sheep ;  and  at  that  rate  we  shan't  be  at  the 
gate  much  before  three  o'clock ;  for  I  see 
that  it's  already  close  upon  one." 

io6 


#' 


The  Kind  of  Life 

"  But  how  do  you  see  it  ?  "  asked  Moya 
curiously.  "  I've  never  seen  you  look  at  a 
watch." 

Ives  smiled,  for  he  had  led  up  to  the 
question,  and  was  about  to  show  off  in  yet 
another  branch  of  the  bushman's  craft 
which  even  he  had  succeeded  in  mastering. 

"  The  fences  are  my  watch,"  said  he ; 
"  they  happen  to  run  due  east  and  west  and 
north  and  south  on  this  station.  This  one 
is  north  and  south.  So  at  noon  the  shad- 
ows of  the  posts  lie  exactly  under  the  wires : 
put  your  head  between  'em,  and  when  the 
bottom  wire  bisects  the  shadow  it's  as  near 
noon  as  you  would  make  it  with  a  quadrant 
and  sextant.  The  rest  comes  by  practice. 
Another  dodge  is  to  put  a  stick  plumb  in 
the  ground  and  watch  when  the  shadow  is 
shortest ;  that's  your  meridian." 

"  Yet  you  say  you  are  no  good  in  the 
bush !  " 

"  I  have  two  of  the  unnecessary  qualifi- 
cations, Miss  Bethune,  and  I've  taken  care 
to  let  you  see  them  both,"  laughed  the  open 
youth.  "  My  only  other  merit  as  a  bush- 
man  is  a  good  rule  which  I  am  sorry  to  say 

107 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

I've  broken  through  talking  to  you.  I 
always  have  my  lunch  at  twelve  under  the 
biggest  tree  in  sight.  And  I  think  we  shall 
find  something  in  that  pine-ridge  within  a 
cooee  on  the  right." 

But  they  could  not  find  shade  for  two, 
and  Moya  voted  the  pine-tree  a  poor 
parasol ;  whereupon  her  companion  showed 
off  still  further  by  squatting  under  the  very 
girths  of  his  horse,  but  once  more  spoilt 
his  own  effect  by  confessing  that  they 
gave  him  the  quietest  horse  on  the  station. 
So  the  two  of  them'divided  bread  and  meat 
and  "  browny  "  for  one,  of  which  last  Moya 
expressed  approval ;  but  not  until  she  was 
asked ;  for  she  was  not  herself  during  this 
interval  of  inaction,  or  rather  she  was  her- 
self once  more.  Care  indeed  had  ridden 
behind  her  all  the  morning;  but  now  the 
black  imp  was  back  before  her  troubled  eyes, 
and  for  the  moment  they  saw  nothing  else. 
But  Ives  began  to  see  and  to  wonder  what  in 
the  world  it  could  be.  She  was  engaged  to 
one  of  the  best  of  good  fellows.  She  took 
to  the  bush  as  to  her  proper  element,  and 
but  now  had  seemed  enchanted  with  her 

io8 


The  Kind  of  Life 

foretaste  of  the  life.  Why  then  the  grim 
contour  of  so  sweet  a  face,  the  indignant 
defiance  in  the  brooding  eyes?  Ives 
thought  and  thought  until  his  youthful 
egoism  assumed  the  blame,  and  shot  him 
from  his  precarious  shelter,  all  anxiety  and 
remorse. 

"  What  a  brute  I  am !  You're  simply 
perishing  of  thirst  I  " 

Moya  coloured,  but  had  the  wit  to  accept 
his  construction. 

"  Well,  it  isn't  your  fault,  at  any  rate, 
Mr.  Ives." 

"  But  I  might  have  ridden  on  and  filled 
the  bag;  there's  certain  to  be  something 
in  the  tank  at  the  hut." 

"  Then  let's  ride  on  together." 

"  No,  you  ride  ahead  and  fill  the  water- 
bag.  It'll  save  time.  Miss  Bethune,  be- 
cause I  can  be  cutting  off  the  corner  with 
the  mob." 

But  the  mob  had  first  to  be  rounded  up, 
for  it  had  split  and  scattered,  and  over  a 
square  mile  every  inch  of  shade  was  covered 
by  a  crouching  fleece.  The  mounted  Ives 
made  a  circuit  with  his  patent  yelp,  and 

109 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

each  tuft  and  bush  shook  out  its  pure 
merino.  It  was  harder  work  to  head  them 
off  the  fence  at  an  angle  of  forty-five,  and 
to  aim  for  the  other  fence  before  a  post  of 
it  was  discernible  by  near-sighted  eyes. 
Ives  was  too  busy  to  follow  Moya's  excur- 
sion, but  was  not  less  delighted  than 
amazed  at  the  speed  with  which  she  re- 
turned from  the  hut. 

"  Good  riding.  Miss  Bethune !  A  drink, 
a  drink,  my  kingdom " 

Moya's  face  stopped  him. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  say  I've  got  nothing  for 
you  to  drink,  Mr.  Ives." 

Ives  licked  the  roof  of  his  mouthy  but 
tried  to  be  heroic. 

"  Well,  have  you  had  some  yourself?" 

"  No.  I — the  fact  is  I  couldn't  see  the 
tank." 

"  Not  see  the  tank !  Why,  you  ought  to 
be  able  to  see  it  from  here ;  no,  it's  on  the 
other  side ;  give  me  the  bag!" 

"  What  for  ?"  asked  Moya,  more  startled 
than  he  saw. 

"  I'll  go  this  time.  You  stay  with  the 
sheep." 

no 


The  Kind  of  Life 

"  But  what's  the  good  of  going  if  the  tank 
has  been  removed?  If  I  couldn't  see  it  I'm 
sure  you  can't,"  said  Moya  bluntly. 

"  Did  you  ride  right  up  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  did." 

And  Moya  smiled. 

"  Well,  at  all  events  there's  the  whim- 
water.     It's  rather  brackish " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Moya,  smiling  still. 

"  But  I  thought  you  were  knocked  up 
with  thirst?  I  am,  I  can  tell  you.  And 
it's  only  rather  salt — that's  why  we've  given 
up  using  that  whim — but  it's  not  salt 
enough  to  make  you  dotty!" 

Moya  maintained  the  kindly  demeanour 
which  she  had  put  on  with  her  smile ;  it 
cost  her  an  efifort,  however. 

"  Go  on  your  own  account,  by  all  means," 
said  she ;  "  but  not  on  mine,  for  I  shan't 
touch  a  drop.  I'm  really  not  so  thirsty  as 
you  suppose ;  let  me  set  you  an  example  of 
endurance,  Mr.  Ives !" 

That  was  enough  for  him.  He  was  spur- 
ring and  yelping  round  his  mob  next 
moment.  But  Moya  did  not  watch  him  ; 
she  had  turned  in  her  saddle  to  take  a  last 

III 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

look  at  the  black  hieroglyph  of  a  whim, 
with  the  little  iron  roof  blazing  beside  it  in 
the  sun.  She  even  shaded  her  eyes  with 
one  sunburnt  hand,  as  if  to  assure  herself 
that  she  had  made  no  mistake. 

"  So  the  whim  is  abandoned,  and  the  hut 
unoccupied  ?" 

"  Yes,  ever  since  Mr.  Rigden  has  been 
manager.  I  hear  it  was  one  of  his  first  im- 
provements." 

They  had  struck  the  farther  fence,  and 
the  mob  was  well  in  hand  along  the  wires. 
Moya  and  the  jackeroo  were  ambling 
leisurely  behind,  and  nothing  could  have 
been  more  natural  than  Moya's  ques- 
tions. 

"  And  the  hut  is  unoccupied  ?"  was  her 
next. 

"  Quite ;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it's  unfit  for 
occupation." 

"  Yet  you  wanted  me  to  drink  the  water !" 

"  That  might  have  been  all  right ;  besides 
any  water's  better  than  none  when  you're 
as  thirsty  as  I  thought  you  were." 

Moya  said  no  more  about  her  thirst ;  it 
was  intolerable;   but  they  must  be  getting 

112 


The  Kind  of  Life 

near  the  gate  at  last.  She  was  silent  for  a 
time,  a  time  of  imaginative  torment,  for  her 
mind  ran  on  the  latter  end  of  such  sufferings 
as  she  was  only  beginning  to  endure.  She 
was  just  uncomfortable  enough  to  have  a 
dreadful  inkling  of  the  stages  between  dis- 
comfort and  death. 

"  It's  a  pity  not  to  use  the  hut,"  she  said 
at  length. 

"  I  believe  it  was  more  bother  than  the 
class  of  water  was  worth,"  returned  Ives. 
"  Yes,  now  I  think  of  it,  I  remember  hearing 
that  they  couldn't  get  men  to  stay  there. 
Blind  Man's  Block  used  to  give  them  the 
creeps.  They're  frightfully  superstitious, 
these  back-blockers !" 

"  I'm  not  surprised,"  said  Moya,  with  a 
shudder.  "  I  never  want  to  see  Blind  Man's 
Block  again,  or  the  hut  either." 

"  But  you  will,  you  know !"  the  jackeroo 
reminded  her.  And  that  put  an  end  to  the 
conversation. 

Over  a  thousand  sheep  were  at  the  gate 
waiting  for  them,  with  half  a  dozen  horses 
and  as  many  men.  Of  course  Ives  was  the 
last  to  arrive  with  his  mob,  but  the  goodly 

"3 


The  Shadow  of  a   Man 

numbers  of  the  latter  combined  with  the 
amazing  apparition  of  Moya  to  save  her 
friend  from  the  reprimand  he  seldom  failed 
to  earn.  Rigden  came  galloping  to  meet 
them,  and  for  both  men's  sake  Moya  treated 
him  prettily  enough  in  front  of  Ives.  Even 
through  that  day's  coat  of  red,  Rigden 
glowed,  and  told  Ives  that  he  should  make 
something  of  him  yet.  His  water-bag  was 
not  quite  empty,  and  Moya  had  enough  to 
make  her  long  for  more  as  she  cantered 
with  the  bag  to  Ives,  who  had  forged  dis- 
creetly ahead. 

"  Don't  let  him  know  we  went  so  long 
without,  Mr.'  Ives !" 

And  his  cracked  lips  were  sealed  upon 
the  subject. 

"  Of  course  you  cut  ofif  the  corner,  and 
didn't  go  right  round  by  the  hut?"  said 
Rigden,  riding  up ;  and  the  jackeroo  felt 
justified  in  speaking  strictly  for  himself; 
and  thought  it  so  like  Miss  Bethune  not  to 
compromise  him  by  saying  how  near  to  the 
hut  they  had  been :  for  Moya  said  nothing 
at  all. 

"  And  now  you  shall  see  a  count-out," 

J14 


The  Kind  of  Life 

cried  Rigden,  in  better  spirits  than  ever,  "  as 
soon  as  we've  boxed  the  mobs." 

"  Boxed  them!"  cried  Moya.  "  Where?" 

"  Joined  them,  I  mean.  To  think  of  your 
coming  mustering  of  your  own  accord, 
Moya!" 

His  voice  had  fallen;  she  did  not  lower 
hers. 

"  It's  one  of  the  most  interesting  days  I 
even  had,"  she  informed  all  within  hear- 
ing ;  "  now  let  me  see  the  end  of  it,  and  I'll 
go  back  happy." 

The  adjective  was  not  convincing,  but 
Rigden  would  not  let  it  dishearten  him. 
The  very  fact  of  her  presence  was  the  end 
of  his  despair. 

"  I  met  one  of  our  rabbiters,  and  arranged 
for  tea  at  his  tent,"  he  said.  "  He  little  ex- 
pects a  lady,  but  you'll  have  to  come." 

The  prospect  had  material  attractions 
which  Moya  was  much  too  honest  to  deny. 
"  Then  make  haste  and  count  I"  was  what 
she  said. 

And  that  followed  which  appealed  to 
Moya  more  than  all  that  had  gone  before. 
The  gate  gaped  wide,  and  Rigden  on  foot 

115 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

put  his  back  to  one  post.  The  rest  kept 
their  saddles,  and  began  gently  rounding 
up  the  mob,  till  it  formed  a  pear-shaped 
island  of  consolidated  wool,  with  the  head- 
land stretching  almost  to  Rigden's  feet. 
He  turned  and  beckoned  to  the  jackeroo. 

"  Tally,  Ives !" 

"  Tally,  sir,"  the  jackeroo  rejoined,  and 
urged  his  horse  to  the  front.  He  had 
managed  to  drift  back  to  Moya's  side,  to 
ensure  her  complete  appreciation  of  a 
manoeuvre  he  deHghted  in,  but  at  the  word 
of  command  he  was  gone  without  a  glance, 
and  visible  responsibility  settled  on  his 
rigid  shoulders. 

Real  dogs  kept  the  mob  together,  but  the 
head  stood  stubborn  at  the  gate,  with  none 
to  lead  the  way  till  Rigden  touched  the  fore- 
most fleece  with  his  toe  and  the  race  began. 
Slowly  and  singly  at  the  start,  as  the  first 
grains  slip  through  the  hour-glass;  by 
wondering  twos  and  threes,  as  the  reluctant 
leaders  were  seen  alive  and  well  in  the  far- 
ther paddock ;  thereafter  by  the  dozen 
abreast,  so  far  as  the  ordinary  eye  could 
judge;   but  Rigden  was  the  only  one  that 

ii6 


The  Kind  of  Life 

knew,  as  he  stood  in  the  gateway,  beating 
time  to  the  stampede  with  raised  forefinger, 
and  nodding  it  with  bent  head. 

"  Hundred !"  he  called  after  the  first  half- 
minute,  and  "  hundred !  "  in  quarter  of  a 
minute  more,  while  Ives  raised  a  hand  each 
time  and  played  five-finger  exercises  with 
the  other  hand  upon  his  thigh.  At  the  same 
time  Rigden  vanished  in  a  yellow  cloud, 
whence  his  voice  came  quicker  and  thicker, 
crying  hundred  after  hundred  above  the 
dull  din  of  a  scuffling  and  scuttling  as  of  a 
myriad  mice  heard  through  a  microphone. 
And  the  dusty  fleeces  disappeared  on  one 
side  of  the  cloud  to  reappear  on  the  other 
until  all  were  through. 

"  And  seventy-two !"  concluded  Rigden 
hoarsely.    "  How  many,  Ives  ?" 

"  Two  thousand  one  hundred  and  sev- 
enty-two," replied  the  jackeroo  promptly. 

"Sure?" 

"  Certain,  sir." 

"  And  so  am  I,"  said  Moya,  riding  for- 
ward, "  for  I  kept  tally  too.  Yes,  the  hun- 
dreds are  all  right ;  but  nothing  will  con- 
vince me  that  they  were  hundreds ;    you 

117 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

might  as  well  count  the  falling  drops  in  a 
shower!" 

Rigden  smiled  as  he  wiped  the  yellow  de- 
posit from  his  scarlet  face. 

"  I  may  be  one  per  cent,  out,"  said  he ; 
"  but  if  I'm  more  I  deserve  the  sack." 

So  Moya  allowed  that  it  was  the  most 
marvellous  performance  her  own  eyes  had 
ever  seen ;  and  these  were  full  of  an  un- 
conscious admiration  for  Rigden  and  his 
prowess ;  but  Rigden  was  conscious  of  it, 
and  his  chin  lifted,  and  his  jaw  set,  and  his 
burnt  face  glowed  again. 

Two  of  the  musterers  were  told  ofif  to 
take  the  sheep  to  their  new  tank,  for  their 
own  dust  had  set  them  bleating  for  a  drink  ; 
the  rest  lit  their  pipes  and  turned  their 
horses'  heads  for  home ;  but  Ives  was  in- 
structed to  stop  at  the  rabbiter's  camp  and 
tell  him  whom  to  expect. 

"  It  would  be  unfair  to  spring  you  on  the 
poor  chap,"  said  Rigden  to  Moya. 

Ives  also  had  a  last  word  to  say  to  her, 
though  he  had  to  say  it  before  the  boss. 

"  That  was  something  to  see,  wasn't  it, 
Miss  Bethune  ?    Doesn't  it  make  you  keener 

ii8 


The  Kind  of  Life 

than  ever  on  the  bush?    Or  isn't  that  pos- 
sible ?" 

And  he  took  off  his  wideawake  as  he  shot 
ahead ;  but  Rigden  and  Moya  rode  on  to- 
gether without  speaking. 


119 


IX 

PAX   IN   BELLO 

T  N  happier  circumstances  the  rabbiter's 
camp  would  have  had  less  charm  for 
Moya.  Its  strings  of  rabbit-skins  would 
have  offended  two  senses,  and  she  would 
have  objected  openly  to  its  nondescript 
dogs.  The  tent  among  the  trees  would 
never  have  struck  Moya  as  a  covetable 
asylum,  while  the  rabbiter  himself,  on  his 
haunches  over  the  fire,  could  not  have 
failed  to  impress  her  as  a  horrid  old  man 
and  nothing  else.  He  was  certainly  very 
ragged,  and  dirty,  and  hot ;  and  he  never 
said  "  sir,"  or  "  miss,"  or  "  glad  to  see  you." 
Yet  he  could  cook  a  chop  to  the  fraction  of 
a  turn ;  and  Moya  could  eat  it  off  his  own 
tin  platter,  and  drink  tea  by  the  pint  out 
of  a  battered  pannikin,  with  no  milk  in  it, 
but  more  brown  sugar  than  enough.  The 
tea,  indeed,  she  went  so  far  as  to  commend 
in  perfectly  sincere  superlatives. 

1 20 


Pax  in  Bello 

"  Oh,  the  tea's  not  so  dusty,"  said  the 
rabbiter  grimly ;  "  it  didn't  ought  to  be  at 
the  price  you  charge  for  it  in  your  store, 
mister !  But  the  tea  don't  matter  so  much ; 
it's  the  water's  the  thing;  and  what's  the 
matter  with  the  water  in  these  here  tanks, 
that  you  should  go  shifting  all  your  sheep, 
Mr.  Rigden  ?  " 

This  was  obviously  Rigden's  business, 
and  Moya,  pricking  an  involuntary  ear, 
thought  that  he  might  have  said  so  in  as 
many  words.  But  Rigden  knew  his  type, 
and  precisely  when  and  in  what  measure  to 
ignore  its  good-humoured  effrontery. 

"  It's  the  sort  of  thing  to  do  in  time,  or 
not  at  all,"  said  he.  "  You  catch  me  wait  till 
my  sheep  begin  to  bog!" 

"  Bog!"  cried  the  rabbiter.  "  Who  said 
they  were  beginning  to  bog?  I  tell  you 
there's  tons  of  good  water  in  this  here  tank  ; 
you  come  and  look  !" 

And  he  made  as  if  to  lead  the  way  to  the 
long  yellow  hp  of  excavation  that  showed 
through  the  clump.  But  Rigden  shook  his 
head  and  smiled,  under  two  scrutinies  ;  and 
this  time  he  did  not  say  that  he  knew  his 

121 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

own  business  best ;  but  his  manner  be- 
trayed no  annoyance. 

Moya,  however,  contrived  to  obtain  a 
glimpse  of  the  water  as  they  rode  away.  It 
looked  cool  and  plentiful  in  the  slanting  sun- 
light— a  rippling  parallelogram  flecked  with 
gold.  There  was  very  little  mud  about  the 
margin. 

"  So  it  is  quite  an  event,  this  mustering?" 

The  question  had  been  carefully  con- 
sidered over  a  mile  or  so  of  lengthening 
shadows,  with  the  cool  hand  of  evening  on 
their  brows  already.  It  was  intended  to 
lead  up  to  another  question,  which,  how- 
ever, Rigden's  reply  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
defer. 

"  Oh,  it's  nothing  to  some  of  our  other 
functions,"  said  he. 

And  Moya  experienced  such  a  twinge  of 
jealousy  that  she  was  compelled  to  ask  what 
those  functions  were ;  otherwise  she  would 
never  know. 

"  First  and  foremost  there's  the  shearing; 
if  this  interests  you,  I  wonder  what  you'll 
think  of  that?"  speculated  Rigden,  exactly 
as  though  they  had  no  quarrel.    "  It's  the 

122 


Pax  in  Bello 

thing  to  see,"  he  continued,  with  deliberate 
enthusiasm :  "  it  means  mustering  the  whole 
run,  that  does,  and  travelling  mob  after  mob 
to  the  shed ;  and  then  the  drafting ;  that's 
another  thing  for  you  to  see,  though  it's 
nothing  to  the  scene  in  the  shed.  But  it's 
no  good  telling  you  about  that  till  you've 
seen  the  shed  itself.  We  shore  thirty-eight 
thousand  last  year.  I  was  over  the  board 
myself.  Two  dozen  shearers  and  a  round 
dozen  rouseabouts " 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  Greek  to  me,"  interrupted 
Moya  dryly ;  but  she  wished  it  was  not. 

"  — and  no  swearing  allowed  in  the  shed  ; 
half-a-crown  fine  each  time;  that  very  old 
ruffian  who  gave  us  tea  just  now  said  it  was 
a  lapsus  lingua  when  I  fined  him!  You 
never  know  what  they've  been,  not  even  the 
roughest  of  them.  But  to  come  back  to  the 
shed :  no  smoking  except  at  given  times  when 
they  all  knock  off  for  quarter-of-an-hour, 
and  the  cook's  boy  comes  down  the  board 
with  pannikins  of  tea  and  shearers'  buns. 
Oh,  they  take  good  care  of  themselves,  these 
chaps,  I  can  tell  you ;  give  their  cook  half- 
a-crown  a  week  per  head,  and  see  he  earns 

12^ 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

it.  Then  there's  a  couple  of  wool-pressers, 
a  wool-sorter  from  Geelong,  Ives  branding 
the  bales,  Spicer  seeing  the  drays  loaded 
and  keeping  general  tally,  and  the  boss  of 
the  shed  with  his  eye  on  everything  and 
everybody.  Oh,  yes,  a  great  sight  for 
you — your  first  shearing !" 

Moya  shook  her  head  without  speaking, 
but  Rigden  was  silenced  at  last.  He  had 
rattled  on  and  on  with  the  hope  of  reawa- 
kening her  enthusiasm  first,  then  her  sym- 
pathy, then — but  no !  He  could  not  keep  it 
up  unaided  ;  he  must  have  some  encourage- 
ment, and  she  gave  him  none.  He  relapsed 
into  silence,  but  presently  proposed  a  can- 
ter. And  this  brought  Moya  to  her  point 
at  last. 

"  Cantering  won't  help  us,"  she  cried ; 
"  do  let's  be  frank !  It's  partly  my  fault  for 
beating  about  the  bush ;  it  set  you  off  talk- 
ing against  time,  and  you  know  it.  But  we 
aren't  anywhere  near  the  station  yet,  and 
there's  one  thing  you  are  going  to  tell  me 
before  we  get  there.  Why  did  you  move 
those  sheep  ?" 

Rigden  was  taken  aback. 
124 


Pax  in  Bello 

"You  heard  me  tell  that  rabbiter/'  he 
replied  at  length. 

"  But  not  the.  truth,"  said  Moya  bluntly. 
"  You  know  you  don't  usually  have  these 
musters  at  a  moment's  notice ;  you  know 
there  was  no  occasion  for  one  to-day.  Do 
let  us  have  the  truth  in  this  one  instance — 
that — that  I  may  think  a  little  better  of  you, 
Pelham !" 

It  was  the  first  time  that  she  had  called 
him  by  any  name  since  the  very  beginning 
of  their  quarrel.  And  her  voice  had 
softened.  And  for  one  instant  her  hand 
stretched  across  and  lay  upon  his  arm. 

"  Very  well !"  he  said  brusquely.  "  It  was 
to  cover  up  some  tracks." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Moya ;  and  her  tone 
surprised  him,  it  was  so  free  from  irony,  so 
earnest,  so  convincing  in  its  simple  sin- 
cerity. 

"  Why  do  you  thank  me  ?  "  he  asked  sus- 
piciously. 

"  I  Hke  to  be  trusted,"  she  said.  "  And 
I  like  to  be  told  the  truth." 

"  If  only  you  would  trust  me !"  he  cried 
from  his  heart.    "  From  the  first  I  have  told 

125 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

you  all  I  could,  and  only  asked  you  to  be- 
lieve that  I  was  acting  for  the  best  in  all  the 
rest.  That  I  can  say:  according  to  my 
lights  I  am  still  acting  for  the  best.  I 
may  have  done  wrong  legally,  but  morally 
I  have  not.  I  have  simply  sheltered  and 
shielded  a  fellow  creature  who  has  already 
suffered  out  of  all  proportion  to  his  fault ; 
but  I  admit  that  I  have  done  the  thing 
thoroughly.  Yes,  I'll  be  frank  with  you 
there.  I  gave  him  a  start  last  night  on  my 
own  horse,  as  indeed  you  know.  I  laid  a 
false  scent  first ;  then  I  arranged  this  muster 
simply  and  solely  to  destroy  the  real  scent. 
I  don't  know  that  it  was  necessary ;  but  I 
do  know  that  neither  the  police  nor  any- 
body else  will  ever  get  on  his  tracks  in  Big 
Bushy ;  there  has  been  too  much  stock  over 
the  same  ground  since." 

There  was  a  grim  sort  of  triumph  in 
his  tone,  which  Moya  came  near  to  shar- 
ing in  her  heart.  She  felt  that  she  could 
and  would  share  it,  if  only  he  would  tell 
her  all. 

"Why  keep  him  in  Big  Bushy?"  she 
quietly  inquired. 

126 


Pax  in  Bello 

"  Keep  him  there  ?"  reiterated  Rigden. 
"  Who's  doing  so,  Moya?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  but  he  was  there  this 
morning." 

"This  morning?" 

"  Yes,  in  the  hut.    I  saw  him." 

"  You  saw  him  in  the  hut  ?  The  fool !" 
cried  Rigden.  "  So  he  let  you  see  him ! 
Did  you  speak  to  him  ?" 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Moya,  with  un- 
affected disgust.  "  I  was  riding  up  to  see 
whether  there  was  any  water  at  the  hut.  I 
turned  my  horse  straight  round,  and  did 
without." 

"  And  didn't  Ives  see  him?" 

"  No,  he  was  with  the  sheep ;  when  I 
joined  him  and  said  I  could  see  no  tank, 
which  was  perfectly  true,  he  wanted  to  go 
back  for  the  water  himself." 

She  stopped  abruptly. 

"Well?" 

"  I  wouldn't  let  him,"  said  Moya. 
"  That's  all." 

She  rode  on  without  glancing  on  either 
hand.  Dusk  had  fallen ;  there  were  no 
more  shadows.     The  sun  had  set  behind 

127 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

them ;  but  Moya  still  felt  the  glow  she  could 
not  see ;  and  it  was  in  like  manner  that  she 
was  aware  also  of  Rigden's  long  gaze. 

"  The  second  time,"  he  said  softly  at  last. 

"  The  second  time  what  ?" 

This  tone  was  sharp. 

"  That  you've  come  to  my  rescue,  Moya." 

"  That  I've  descended  to  your  level,  you 
mean!" 

He  caught  her  rein  angrily. 

"  You've  no  right  to  say  that  without 
knowing!" 

"  Whose  fault  is  it  that  I  don't  know  ?" 

He  loosed  her  rein  and  caught  her  hand 
instead,  and  held  it  against  all  resistance. 
Yet  Moya  did  not  resist.  He  hurt  her,  and 
she  welcomed  the  pain. 

"  Moya,  I  would  tell  you  this  moment  if  I 
thought  it  would  be  for  your  good  and 
mine.  It  wouldn't — so  why  should  I?  It 
is  something  that  you  would  never,  never 
forgive !  " 

"  You  mean  the  secret  of  the  man's  hold 
upon  you?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  after  a  pause. 

"  You  are  wrong,"  said  Moya,  quickly. 
128 


Pax  in  Bello 

"  It  shows  how  Httle  you  know  me !  I  could 
forgive  anything  —  anything  —  that  is  past 
and  over.  Anything  but  your  refusal  to 
trust  me  .  .  .  when  as  you  say  your- 
self    ...     I  have  twice  over     .     .     ." 

She  was  shaking  in  her  saddle,  in  a  fit  of 
suppressed  sobbing  the  more  violent  for  its 
very  silence.  In  the  deep  gloaming  it  might 
have  been  an  ague  that  had  seized  her ;  but 
some  tears  fell  upon  his  hand  holding  hers ; 
and  next  moment  that  arm  was  round  her 
waist.  Luckily  the  horses  were  tired  out. 
And    so  for    a  little    her  head    lav  on  his 

ml 

shoulder  as  though  there  were  no  space  be- 
tween, the  while  he  whispered  in  her  ear 
with  all  the  eloquence  he  possessed,  and  all 
the  passion  she  desired. 

In  this  she  must  trust  him,  else  indeed  let 
her  never  trust  him  with  her  life !  But  she 
would — she  would  ?  Surely  one  secret  with- 
held was  not  to  part  them  for  all  time ! 
And  she  loved  the  place  after  all,  he  could 
see  that  she  loved  it,  nor  did  she  deny  it 
when  he  paused  ;  she  would  love  the  life,  he 
saw  that  too,  and  again  there  was  no  denial. 
They  had  been  so  happy  yesterday !    They 

129 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

could  be  so  happy  all  their  lives !  But  for 
that  it  was  not  necessary  that  they  should 
tell  each  other  everything.  It  was  not  as  if 
he  was  going  to  question  her  right  to  have 
and  to  keep  secrets  of  her  own.  She  was 
welcome  to  as  many  as  ever  she  liked.  He 
happened  to  know,  for  example  (as  a  matter 
of  fact,  it  was  notorious),  that  he  was  not 
the  first  man  whom  she  had  fancied  she 
cared  about.  But  did  he  ask  questions 
about  the  others?  Well,  then,  she  should 
remember  that  in  his  favour.  And  yet — 
and  yet — she  had  stood  nobly  by  him  in 
spite  of  all  her  feelings !  And  yes,  she  had 
earned  the  right  to  know  more — to  know  all 
— when  he  remembered  that  he  was  risking 
his  liberty  and  her  happiness,  and  that  she 
had  countenanced  the  risk  in  her  own  de- 
spite !  Ah,  if  only  he  were  sure  of  her  and 
her  forgiveness ;    if  only  he  were  sure ! 

"  You  talk  as  though  you  had  committed 
some  crime  yourself,"  said  Moya ;  "  well,  I 
don't  care  if  you  have,  so  long  as  you  tell  me 
all  about  it.  There  is  nothing  I  wouldn't 
forgive — nothing  upon  earth — except  such 
secrets  from  the  girl  you  profess  to  love." 

130 


Pax  in  Bello 

She  had  got  rid  of  his  arm  some  time 
before  this,  but  their  hands  were  still  joined 
in  the  deepening  twilight,  until  at  this  he 
dropped  hers  suddenly. 

"  Profess !  "  he  echoed.  "  Profess,  do 
I?  You  know  better  than  that,  at  all 
events!  Upon  my  soul  I've  a  good  mind 
to  tell  you  after  that,  and  chance  the  con- 
sequences !  " 

His  anger  charmed  her,  as  the  anger  of 
the  right  man  should  charm  the  right 
woman.  And  this  time  it  was  she  who 
sought  his  hand. 

"  Then  tell  me  now,"  she  whispered. 
"  And  you  shall  see  how  you  have  mis- 
judged me." 

It  was  hard  on  Moya  that  he  was  not 
listening,  for  she  had  used  no  such  tone 
towards  him  these  four-and-twenty  hours. 
And  listening  he  was,  but  to  another  sound 
which  reached  her  also  in  the  pause.  It  was 
the  thud  and  jingle  of  approaching  horse- 
men. Another  minute  and  the  white  trap- 
pings of  the  mounted  police  showed 
through  the  dusk. 

"  That  you,  Mr.  Rigden  ?"  said  a  queer 
131 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

voice  for  the  sergeant.  "  Can  you  give  us 
a  word,  please?  " 

Rigden  had  but  time  to  glance  at  Moya. 

"  I'll  ride  on  slowly,"  she  said  at  once ; 
and  she  rode  on  the  better  part  of  a  mile, 
leaving  the  way  entirely  to  her  good  bush 
steed.  At  last  there  was  quite  a  thunder  of 
overtaking  hoofs,  and  Rigden  reined  up  be- 
side her,  with  the  sergeant  not  far  behind. 
Moya  looked  round,  and  the  sergeant  was 
without  his  men,  at  tactful  range. 

"Do  they  guess  anything?"  whispered 
Moya. 

"  Not  they !" 

"  Sure  the  others  haven't  gone  on  to 
scour  Big  Bushy  ?" 

"  No,  only  to  cross  it  on  their  way  back. 
They've  given  it  up,  Moya!  The  sergeant's 
just  coming  back  for  dinner." 

His  tone  had  been  more  triumphant  be- 
fore his  triumph  was  certain,  but  Moya  did 
not  notice  this. 

"  I'm  so  glad,"  she  whispered,  half  mis- 
chievously, and  caught  his  hand  under 
cloud  of  early  night. 

"Are  you?"  said  Rigden,  wistfully. 
132 


Pax  in  Bello 

"Then  I  suppose  you'll  say  you're  glad 
about  something  else.  You  won't  be  when 
the  time  comes !  But  now  it's  all  over  you 
shall  have  your  way,  Moya;  come  for  a 
stroll  after  dinner,  and  I'll  tell  you — every 
— single — thing !  " 


133 


THE    TRUTH    BY    INCHES 

f  TK  told  her  with  his  back  against  the 
gate  leading  into  Butcher-boy.  Moya 
heard  him  and  stood  still.  Behind  her  rose 
the  station  pines,  and  through  the  pines 
peeped  hut  and  house,  in  shadow  below,  but 
with  each  particular  roof  like  a  clean  table- 
cloth in  the  glare  of  the  risen  moon.  A  high 
light  or  so  showed  in  the  verandah  under- 
neath ;  this  was  Bethune's  shirt-front,  that 
the  sergeant's  breeches,  and  those  transi- 
tory red-hot  pin-heads  their  cigars.  Rigden 
had  superb  sight.  He  could  see  all  this  at 
something  like  a  furlong's  range.  Yet  all 
that  he  did  see  was  Moya  with  the  moon 
upon  her,  a  feathery  and  white  silhouette, 
edged  with  a  greater  whiteness,  and 
crowned  as  with  gold. 

"  Your  father !" 

"  Yes,  I  am  his  son  and  heir." 
134 


The  Truth  by  Inches 

Her  tone  was  low  with  grief  and  horror, 
but  his  was  unintentionally  sardonic.  It 
jarred  upon  the  woman,  and  reacted  against 
the  man.  Moya's  first  feeling  had  been 
undefiled  by  self;  but  in  an  instant  her 
tears  were  poisoned  at  their  fount. 

"  And  you  told  me  your  father  was 
dead!" 

The  new  note  was  one  of  the  eternal  scale 
between  man  and  woman.  It  was  the  note 
of  unbridled  reproach. 

"  Never  in  so  many  words,  I  think,"  said 
Rigden,  unfortunately. 

"  In  so  many  words !"  echoed  Moya,  but 
the  sneer  was  her  last.  "  I  hate  such  con- 
temptible distinctions !"  she  cried  out  hon- 
estly. "  Better  have  cheated  me  wholesale, 
as  you  did  the  police ;  there  was  something 
thorough  about  that." 

"  And  I  hope  that  you  can  now  see  some 
excuse  for  it,"  rejoined  Rigden  with  more 
point. 

"  For  that,  yes !"  cried  Moya  at  once. 
"  Oh,  dear,  yes,  no  one  can  blame  you  for 
screening  your  poor  father.  I  forgive  you 
for  cheating  the  police — it  would  have  been 

135 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

unnatural  not  to — but  I  never,  never  shall 
forgive  you  for  what  was  unnatural — cheat- 
ing me." 

Rigden  took  a  sharper  tone. 

"  You  are  too  fond  of  that  word,"  said  he, 
"  and  I  object  to  it  as  between  me  and  you." 

"  You  have  earned  it,  though  I" 

"  I  deny  it.  I  simply  held  my  tongue 
about  a  tragedy  in  my  own  family  which 
you  could  gain  nothing  by  knowing.  There 
was  no  cheating  in  that." 

"  I  disagree  with  you !"  said  Moya  very 
hotly,  but  he  went  on  as  though  she  had  not 
spoken. 

"  You  speak  as  though  I  had  hushed  up 
something  in  my  own  life.  Can't  you  see 
the  difference?  He  was  convicted  under 
another  name  ;  it  was  a  thing  nobody  knew 
but  ourselves ;  nobody  need  ever  have 
known.  Or  so  I  thought,"  he  ended  in  a 
wretched  voice. 

But  Moya  was  outwardly  unmoved. 

"  All  the  more  reason  why  you  should 
have  told  me,  and  trusted  me,"  she  in- 
sisted. 

"  God  knows  I  thought  of  it !    But  I  knew 
136 


The  Truth  by  Inches 

the  difference  it  would  make.    And  I  was 
right !  " 

It  was  his  turn  to  be  bitter,  and  Moya's 
to  regain  complete  control. 

"  So  you  think  it's  that  that  makes  the 
difference  now?" 

"  Of  course  it  is." 

"  Would  you  believe  me  if  I  assured  you 
■  it  was  not  ?" 

"  No ;  you  might  think  so  ;  but  I  know." 

"  You  know  singularly  little  about 
women,"  said  Moya  after  a  pause. 

And  her  tone  shook  him.  But  he  said 
that  he  could  only  judge  by  the  way  she 
had  taken  it  now. 

There  was  another  pause,  in  which  the 
proud  girl  wrestled  with  her  pride.  But  at 
last  she  told  him  he  was  very  dull.  And  she 
drew  a  little  nearer,  with  the  ghost  of  other 
looks  behind  her  tears. 

But  the  high  moon  just  missed  her  face. 

And  Rigden  was  very  dull  indeed. 

"  You  had  better  tell  me  everything,  and 
give  me  a  chance,"  she  said  dryly. 

"  What's  the  use,  when  the  mere  fact  is 
enough  ?" 

1.37 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  I  never  said  it  was." 

"  Oh,  Moya,  but  you  know  it  must  be. 
Think  of  your  people !" 

"  Why  should  I  ?" 

"  They  will  have  to  know." 

"  I  don't  see  it." 

"  Ah,  but  they  will,"  said  Rigden,  with 
dire  conviction.  And  though  the  change  in 
Moya  was  now  apparent  even  to  him,  it 
wrought  no  answering  change  in  Rigden; 
on  the  contrary,  he  fell  into  a  brown  study, 
with  dull  eyes  fixed  no  longer  upon  Moya, 
but  on  the  high  lights  in  the  verandah  far 
away. 

"There's  so  little  to  tell,"  he  said  at 
length.  "  It  was  a  runaway  match,  and  a 
desperately  bad  bargain  for  my  dear  mother, 
yet  by  no  means  the  unhappy  marriage  you 
would  suppose.  I  have  that  from  her  own 
dear  lips,  and  I  don't  think  it  so  extraor- 
dinary as  I  did  once.  A  bad  man  may 
still  be  the  one  man  for  a  good  woman,  and 
make  her  happier  than  the  best  of  good  fel- 
lows ;  it  was  so  in  their  case.  My  father  was 
and  is  a  bad  man ;  there's  no  mincing  the 
matter.     I've  stood  by  him  for  what  he  is 

138 


The  Truth  by  Inches 

to  me,  not  for  what  he  is  in  himself,  for  he 
has  gone  from  bad  to  worse,  like  most 
prisoners.  He  was  in  trouble  when  he  mar- 
ried my  mother;  the  police  were  on  his 
tracks  even  then :  they  came  out  here  under 
a  false  name." 

"And  your  name?"  asked  Moya,  perti- 
nently yet  not  unkindly;  indeed  she  was 
standing  close  beside  him  now. 

"  That  is  not  false,"  said  Rigden.  "  My 
mother  used  it  from  the  time  of  her  trouble. 
She  would  not  bring  me  up  under  an  alias ; 
but  she  took  care  not  to  let  his  people  or 
hers  get  wind  of  her  existence  ;  never  wrote 
them  a  line  in  her  poorest  days,  though  her 
people  would  have  taken  her  back — without 
him.  That  wouldn't  do  for  my  mother.  Yet 
nothing  else  was  possible.  He  was  sent  to 
the  hulks  for  life." 

Moya's  face,  turned  to  the  light  at  last, 
was  shining  Hke  the  moon  itself;  and  the 
tears  in  her  eyes  were  tears  of  enthusiasm, 
almost  of  pride. 

"  It  was  fine  of  her !"  she  said,  and  caught 
his  hand. 

"  She  was  fine,"  he  answered  simply.  Yet 
139 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

Moya's  hand  had  no  effect.  He  looked  at  it 
wistfully,  but  let  it  go  without  an  answering 
clasp.    And  the  girl's  pride  bled  again. 

She  hardly  heard  his  story  after  that. 
Yet  it  was  a  story  to  hear.  The  villain  had 
not  been  a  villain  of  the  meaner  dye,  but 
one  of  parts,  courage  among  them. 

"  There  have  been  no  bushrangers  in 
your  time,"  said  Rigden ;  "  but  you  may 
have  heard  of  them  ?" 

"  I  remember  all  about  the  Kellys,"  said 
honest  Moya.  "  I'm  not  so  young  as  all 
that." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Captain  Bovill  ?" 
"  I  know  the  name,  nothing  more." 
"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  Rigden,  grimly. 
"  It  is  the  name  by  which  my  unhappy 
father  is  going  down  to  Australian  history 
as  one  of  its  most  notorious  criminals.  The 
gold-fields  were  the  beginning  of  the  end 
of  him,  as  of  many  a  better  man ;  he  could 
not  get  enough  out  of  his  claim,  so  he  took 
it  from  an  escort  under  arms.  There  was  a 
whole  band  of  them,  and  they  were  all  taken 
at  last ;  but  it  was  not  the  last  of  Captain 
Bovill.      You    have    seen    the    old    hulk 

140 


The  Truth  by  Inches 

SuccessF  He  was  one  of  the  prisoners  who 
seized  the  launch  and  killed  a  warder  and  a 
sailor  between  them ;  he  was  one  of  those 
sentenced  to  death  and  afterwards  re- 
prieved. That  was  in  '56;  the  next  year 
they  murdered  the  Inspector-General ;  and 
he  was  tried  for  that  with  fifteen  others,  but 
he  got  off  with  his  neck.  He  only  spoilt  his 
last  chance  of  legal  freedom  in  this  life ;  so 
he  tried  to  escape  again  and  again ;  and  at 
last  he  has  succeeded!" 

The  son's  tone  was  little  in  keeping  with 
his  acts,  but  the  incongruity  was  very 
human.  There  was  Moya  beside  him  in  the 
moonlight,  but  for  the  last  time,  whatever 
she  might  say  or  think  !  And  her  mind  was 
working  visibly. 

"  Why  didn't  the  police  say  who  it  was 
they  were  after?"  she  cried  of  a  sudden; 
and  the  blame  was  back  in  her  voice,  for  she 
had  found  new  shoulders  for  it. 

Rigden  smiled  sadly. 

"  Don't  you  see?  "  he  said.  "  Don't  you 
remember  what  Harkness  said  at  the  start 
about  my  fellows  harbouring  him  ?  But  he 
told  me  that  evening — to  think  that  it  was 

141 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

only  last  night ! — as  a  great  secret  and  a 
tremendous  piece  of  news.  The  fact  is  that 
my  unhappy  father  was  more  than  notori- 
ous in  his  day  ;  he  was  popular  ;  and  popu- 
lar sympathy  has  been  the  bugbear  of  the 
police  ever  since  the  Kellys.  Not  that  he 
has  much  sympathy  for  me !"  cried  Rigden 
all  at  once.  "  Not  that  I'm  acting  alto- 
gether from  a  sense  of  filial  duty,  however 
mistaken ;  no,  you  shan't  run  away  with 
any  false  ideas.  It  was  one  for  him  and  two 
for  myself!  He  had  the  whip-hand  of  me, 
and  let  me  know  it ;  if  I  gave  him  away,  he'd 
have  given  me !" 

"  If  only  you  had  let  him !  If  only  you 
had  trusted  me,"  sighed  Moya  once  more. 
"  But  you  do  now,  don't  you — dear?  " 

And  she  touched  his  coat,  for  she  could 
not  risk  the  repulse  of  his  hand,  though  her 
words  went  so  far — so  very  far  for  Moya. 

"  It's  too  late  now,"  he  said. 

But  it  was  incredible !  Even  now  he 
seemed  not  to  see  her  hand — hers !  Vanity 
invaded  her  once  more,  and  her  gates  stood 
open  to  the  least  and  meanest  of  the  beset- 
ting host.    She  make  advances  to  him,  to  the 

142 


The  Truth  by  Inches 

convict's  son  !  What  would  her  people  say  ? 
What  would  Toorak  say?  What  would 
she  not  say  herself — to  herself — of  herself — 
after  this  nig-htmare  night? 

And  all  because  (but  certainly  for  the 
second  time)  he  had  taken  no  notice  of  her 
hand! 

When  found,  however,  Moya's  voice  was 
as  cold  as  her  heart  was  hot. 

"  Oh,  very  well !  It  is  certainly  too  late  if 
you  wish  it  to  be  so,  and  in  any  case  now. 
But  may  I  ask  why  you  are  so  keen  to  save 
me  the  trouble  of  saying  so?" 

Rigden  looked  past  her  towards  the  sta- 
tion, and  there  were  no  more  high  lights  in 
the  verandah ;  but  elsewhere  there  were 
voices,  and  the  champing  of  a  bit. 

"  If  you  go  back  now,"  he  said,  "  you 
will  just  be  in  time  to  hear." 

"  Thank  you.  I  prefer  to  have  it  here, 
and  from  you." 

Rigden  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Then  I  am  no  longer  a  free  agent.  I  am 
here  on  parole.    I  am  under  arrest." 

"  Nonsense !" 

"  I  am,  though  :  harbouring  the  fugitive ! 
143 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 
They  can't  put  salt  on  him,  so  they  have 


on  me." 


Moya  stood  looking  at  him  in  a  long 
silence,  but  only  hardening  as  she  looked : 
patience,  pity  and  understanding  had  gone 
like  so  many  masts,  by  the  board,  and  the 
wreckage  in  her  heart  closed  it  finally 
against  him  in  the  very  hour  of  his  more 
complete  disaster. 

"  And  how  long  have  you  known  this  ?" 
she  inquired  stonily,  though  the  answer  was 
obvious  to  her  mind. 

"  Ever  since  we  met  them  on  our  ride 
home.  They  showed  me  their  warrant  then. 
The  trooper  had  done  thirty  miles  for  it 
this  afternoon.  They  wanted  to  take  me 
straight  away.  But  I  persuaded  Harkness 
to  come  back  to  dinner  and  return  with  me 
later  without  fuss." 

"  Yet  you  couldn't  say  one  word  to  me !" 

"  Not  just  then.  Where  was  the  point  ? 
But  I  arranged  with  Harkness  to  tell  you 
now.  And  by  all  my  gods  I've  told  you 
everything  there  is  to  tell,  Moya !  " 

"  You  should  have  told  me  this  first.  But 
you  tell  nothing  till  you  are  forced !  I  might 

144 


The  Truth  by  Inches 

have  known  you  were  keeping  the  worst  up 
your  sleeve !  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  the 
very  worst  were  still  to  come !  " 

"It's  coming  now,"  said  Rigden,  bitterly ; 
"  it's  coming  from  you,  in  the  most  miser- 
able hour  of  all  my  existence ;  you  must 
make  it  worse !  How  was  I  to  know  the 
other  wouldn't  be  enough  for  you?  How 
do  I  know  now  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Moya,  a  knife  in  her 
heart,  but  another  in  her  tongue. 

The  voices  drew  nearer  through  the 
pines  ;  there  was  Harkness  mounted,  with  a 
led  horse,  and  Theodore  Bethune  on  foot. 
Rigden  turned  abruptly  to  the  girl. 

"  There  are  just  two  more  things  to  be 
said.  None  of  them  know  where  he  is,  and 
none  of  them  know  my  motive.  You're  in 
both  secrets.  You'd  better  keep  them — 
unless  you  want  Toorak  to  know  who  it  was 
you  were  engaged  to." 

The  rest  followed  without  a  word.  It 
might  have  been  a  scene  in  a  play  without 
words,  and  indeed  the  moon  chalked  the 
faces  of  the  players,  and  the  Riverina 
crickets  supplied  the  music  with  an  orches- 

145 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

tra  some  millions  strong.  The  clink  of  a 
boot  in  a  stirrup,  a  thud  in  the  saddle, 
another  clink  upon  the  off  side  ;  and  Rigden 
lifting  his  wideawake  as  he  rode  after  Hark- 
ness  through  the  gate ;  and  Bethune  hold- 
ing the  gate  open,  shutting  it  after  them, 
and  taking  Moya's  arm  as  she  stood  like 
Lot's  wife  in  the  moonlight. 


146 


XI 

BETHUNE  V.    BETHUNE 


(( 


T  DON'T  want  to  rub  things  in,  or  to 
make  things  worse,"  said  Theodore, 
kindly  enough,  as  they  approached  the 
house ;  "  but  we  shall  have  to  talk  about 
them,  for  all  that,  Moya." 

"  I'm  ready,"  was  the  quick  reply.  "  I'll 
talk  till  daylight  as  long  as  you  won't  let 
me  think !  " 

"  That's  the  right  child ! "  purred  her 
brother.  "  Come  to  my  room  ;  it's  the  least 
bit  more  remote ;  and  these  youths  are  hold- 
ing indignation  meetings  on  their  own  ac- 
count.   Ah  !   here's  one  of  them." 

Spicer  had  stepped  down  from  the 
verandah  with  truculent  stride. 

"  A  word  with  you,  Bethune,"  said  he, 
brusquely. 

"  Thanks,  but  I'm  engaged  to  my  sister 
for  this  dance,"  replied  the  airy  Theodore. 

147 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

Moya  could  not  stand  his  tone.  Also  she 
heard  young  Ives  turning  the  horses  out 
for  the  night,  and  an  inspiration  seized  her 
by  the  heels. 

"  No,  for  the  next,"  said  she ;  "  I  want  to 
speak  to  Mr.  Ives." 

And  she  flew  to  the  horse-yard,  where  the 
slip-rails  were  down,  and  Ives  shooing  horse 
after  horse  across  them  Hke  the  incurable 
new  chum  he  was. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Mr.  Ives.  Don't  have 
me  trampled  to  death  just  yet." 

"Miss  Bethune!" 

And  the  top  rail  was  up  again.  But  it 
was  not  her  presence  that  surprised  him. 
It  was  her  tone. 

"  A  dreadful  ending  to  our  day,  Mr. 
Ives ! " 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,"  cried  the 
boy,  with  all  his  enthusiasm  ;  "  to  our  day, 
if  you  like,  but  that's  all !  This  is  the  most 
infernally  unjust  and  high-handed  action 
that  ever  was  taken  by  the  police  of  any 
country !  Iniquitous  —  scandalous  !  But 
it  won't  hold  water ;  these  squatters  are  no 
fools,  and    every  beak  in    the    district's    a 

148 


Bethune  v.  Bethune 

squatter;  they'll  see  Rigden  through,  and 
we'll  have  him  back  before  any  of  the  hands 
know  a  word  of  what's  up." 

"  But  don't  they  know  already  ?  " 

"  Not  they ;  trust  us  for  that !  Why,  even 
Mrs.  Duncan  has  no  idea  why  he's  gone. 
But  we  shall  have  him  back  this  time  to- 
morrow, never  you  fear,  Miss  Bethune !  " 

"  How  far  is  it  to  the  police-barracks, 
Mr.  Ives?" 

"  Well,  it's  fourteen  miles  to  our  bound- 
ary, and  that's  not  quite  half-way." 

"  Then  they  won't  be  there  before  mid- 
night. Is  it  the  way  we  went  this  morning, 
Mr.  Ives?" 

"  Yes ;  he's  going  over  the  same  ground, 
poor  chap,  in  different  company.  But  he'll 
come  galloping  back  to-morrow,  you  take 
my  word  for  it !  " 

Ives  leant  with  folded  arms  upon  the 
restored  rail.  The  animals  already  turned 
out  hugged  the  horse-yard  fence  wistfully. 
The  lucky  remnant  were  licking  the  last 
grains  of  chafT  from  the  bin.  Moya  drew 
nearer  to  the  rail. 

"  Mr.  Ives !  " 

149 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"Miss  Bethune?" 

"  Would  you  do  a  favour  for  me  ?  " 

"  Would  I  not !  " 

"  And  say  nothing  about  it  afterwards  ?  " 

"  You  try  me." 

"  Then  leave  a  horse  that  I  can  ride — and 
saddle — in  the  yard  to-night !  " 

Ives  was  embarrassed. 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  he,  with  nothing 
of  the  sort — and  began  hedging  in  the  same 
breath.  "  But — but  look  here,  I  say,  Miss 
Bethune!  You're  never  going  all  that 
way " 

"  Of  course  I'm  not,  and  if  I  do  it  won't 
be  before  morning,  only  first  thing  then, 
before  the  horses  are  run  up.  And  I  don't 
want  you,  or  anybody,  least  of  all  my 
brother,  to  come  with  me,  or  have  the  least 
idea  where  I've  gone,  or  that  I've  gone  any- 
where at  all.  See?  I'm  perfectly  well  able 
to  take  care  of  myself,  Mr.  Ives.  Can  I 
trust  you?  " 

"  Of  course  you  can,  but " 

"  No  advice — please — dear  Mr.  Ives !  " 

It  was  Moya  at  her  sweetest,  with  the 
moon  all  over  her.    She  wondered  at  the 

150 


Bethune  v.  Bethune 

time  how  she  forced  that  smile;  but  it 
gained  her  point. 

"Very  well,"  he  sighed;  "your 
blood " 

"  I  shan't  lose  one  drop,"  said  Moya 
brightly.    "  And  no  more  questions?  " 

"  Of  course  not." 

"And  no  tellings?" 

"  Miss  Bethune !  " 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  Moya.  "  I'm  more 
than  satisfied.  And  you're — the — dearest 
young  man  in  the  bush,  Mr.  Ives !  " 

The  jackeroo   swept   his   wideawake   to 

* 

the  earth. 

"  And  you're  the  greatest  girl  in  the 
world,  though  I  were  to  be  drawn  and  quar- 
tered for  saying  so  i  " 

Moya  returned  to  the  house  with  pensive 
gait.  She  was  not  overwhelmed  with  a 
present  sense  of  her  alleged  greatness.  On 
the  contrary,  she  had  seldom  felt  so  small 
and  petty.  But  she  could  make  amends ; 
at  least  she  could  try. 

Horse-yard  and  house  were  not  very  far 
apart,  but  some  of  the  lesser  buildings  in- 
tervened, and  Moya  had  been  too  full  of 

151 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

her  own  sudden  ideas  to  lend  an  ear  to  any 
or  aug-ht  but  Ives  and  his  repHes.  So  she 
had  missed  a  word  or  two  which  it  was  just 
as  well  for  her  to  miss,  and  more  even  than 
a  word.  She  did  notice,  however,  that  Mr. 
Spicer  turned  his  back  as  she  passed  him  in 
the  verandah.  And  she  found  Theodore 
dabbing  his  knuckles  in  his  bedroom. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  What  have  you 
done?" 

"  Oh,  nothing." 

But  tone  and  look  alike  betokened  some 
new  achievement :  they  were  self-satisfied 
even  for  Bethune  of  the  Hall. 

"  Tell  me,"  demanded  Moya. 

"  Well,  if  you  want  to  know,  I've  been 
teaching  one  of  your  back-blockers  (yours 
no  more,  praises  be !)  a  bit  of  a  lesson.  Our 
friend  Spicer.  Very  offensive  to  me  all  day  ; 
seemed  to  think  I  was  inspiring  the  police. 
Just  now  he  surpassed  himself;  wanted  me 
to  take  off  my  coat  and  go  behind  the  pines ; 
in  other  words  to  fight." 

"And  wouldn't  you?" 

"  Not  exactly.  Take  off  my  coat  to 
him ! " 

152 


Bethune  v.  Bethune 

"  So  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  Knocked  him  down  as  I  stood." 

"You  didn't!" 

"  Very  well.  Ask  Mr.  Spicer.  I'm  sorry 
for  the  chap ;  he  meant  well ;  and  I  admire 
his  pluck." 

"What  did  he  do?" 

"  Got  up  and  went  for  me  bald-headed." 

"  And  you  knocked  him  down  again  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Theodore,  "that  time  I 
knocked  him  out." 

And  he  took  a  cigarette  from  his  silver 
case,  while  Moya  regarded  him  with  almost 
as  much  admiration  as  disgust,  and  more  of 
surprise  than  of  either. 

"  I  didn't  know  this  was  one  of  your 
accomplishments,"  said  she  at  length. 

"  Aha !  "  puffed  Theodore ;  "  nor  was  it, 
once  upon  a  time.  But  there's  a  certain 
old  prize-fighter  at  a  place  called  Trumping- 
ton,  and  he  taught  me  the  most  useful  thing 
I  learnt  up  at  Cambridge.  The  poetic 
justice  of  it  is  that  I  *  read  '  with  him,  so 
to  speak,  with  a  view  to  these  very  bush 
bullies  and  up-country  larrikins.  They're 
too  free  with    their  tongues  when    they're 

153 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

in  a  good  temper,  and  with  their  fists  when 
they're  not.  I  suffered  from  them  in  early 
youth,  Moya,  but  I  don't  fancy  I  shall  suffer 
any  more." 

Moya  was  not  so  sure.  She  caught  her- 
self matching  Theodore  and  another  in  her 
mind,  and  was  not  ashamed  of  the  side  she 
took.  It  made  no  difference  to  her  own 
quarrel  with  the  imaginary  champion ; 
nothing  could  or  should  alter  that.  But 
perhaps  she  had  been  ungenerous.  He 
seemed  to  think  so.  She  would  show  him 
she  was  neither  ungenerous,  nor  a  coward, 
before  she  was  done.  And  after  that  the 
deluge. 

Hereabouts  Moya  caught  Theodore 
watching  her,  a  penny  for  her  thoughts  in 
either  eye.  In  an  instant  she  had  ceased 
being  disingenuous  with  herself,  and  was 
hating  him  heartily  for  having  triumphed 
over  an  adherent  of  Rigden,  however  mis- 
taken ;  in  another  she  was  sharing  that  ad- 
herent's suspicions ;  in  a  third,  expressing 
them. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Mr.  Spicer  was 
quite  right !  " 

154 


Bethune  v.  Bethune 

"  In  accusing  me  of  inspiring  the 
police  ?  " 

"  You  suspected  the  truth  last  night.  Oh, 
I  saw  through  all  that ;  we  won't  discuss  it. 
And  why  should  you  keep  your  suspicions 
to  yourself?  " 

Bethune  blew  a  delicate  cloud. 

"  One  or  two  absurd  little  reasons :  be- 
cause I  was  staying  in  his  house ;  because 
you  were  engaged  to  him  ;  because,  in  spite 
of  all  temptations,  one  does  one's  poor  best 
to  remain  more  or  less  a  gentleman." 

"  Then  why  did  you  go  with  the  police- 
men?" 

"  To  see  what  happened.  I  don't  honestly 
remember  making  a  single  comment,  much 
less  the  least  suggestion  ;  if  I  did  it  was  in- 
voluntary, for  I  went  upon  the  clear  under- 
standing with  myself  that  I  must  say  noth- 
ing, whatever  I  might  think.  I  was  a  mere 
spectator  —  immensely  interested  —  fasci- 
nated, in  fact — but  as  close  as  wax,  if  you'll 
believe  me." 

Moya  did  believe  him.  She  knew  the 
family  faults ;  they  were  bounded  by  the 
family  virtues,  and  double-dealing  was  not 

155 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

within  the  pale.  And  Moya  felt  interested 
herself;  she  wished  to  hear  on  what  pre- 
text Rigden  had  been  arrested;  she  had 
already  heard  that  it  was  slender. 

"  Tell  me  what  happened." 

Theodore  was  nothing  loth :  indeed  his 
day  in  the  bush  had  been  better  than 
Moya's,  more  exciting  and  unusual,  yet 
every  whit  as  typical  in  its  way.  Spicer 
had  led  them  straight  to  the  clay-pans 
where  Rigden  had  struck  his  alleged  trail, 
and  there  sure  enough  they  had  found  it. 

"  I  confess  I  could  see  nothing  myself 
when  the  tracker  first  got  off;  but  half  a 
glance  was  enough  for  him  ;  and  on  he  went 
like  a  blood-hound,  with  his  black  muzzle 
close  to  the  ground,  the  rest  of  us  keeping  a 
bit  behind  and  well  on  one  side.  Presently 
there's  a  foot-print  I  can  see  for  myself,  then 
more  that  I  simply  couldn't,  then  another 
plain  one;  and  this  time  Billy— they're 
all  called  Billy— simply  jumped  with  joy. 
At  least  I  thought  it  was  with  joy,  till  I  saw 
him  pointing  from  his  own  marks  to  the 
others,  and  shaking  his  black  head.  Both 
prints  were  about  the  same  depth. 

156 


Bethune  v.  Bethune 

"'Him  stamp,'  says  Billy.  'What  for 
him  stamp  ? ' 

"  But  we  pushed  on  and  came  to  some 
soft  ground  where  any  white  fool  could 
have  run  down  the  tracks ;  and  presently 
they  brought  us  to  a  fence,  which  we  crossed 
by  strapping  down  the  wires  and  leading 
our  horses  over,  but  not  where  Rigden  had 
led  his.  Well,  we  lost  the  tracks  eventually 
where  Rigden  said  he'd  lost  them,  at  what 
they're  pleased  to  call  a  '  tank  '  in  these 
parts ;  the  black  fellow  went  round  and 
round  the  waterhole,  but  devil  another  foot- 
mark could  he  find.  So  then  we  went  back 
on  the  tracks  we  had  found.  And  presently 
there's  a  big  yabber-yabber  on  the  part  of 
William,  who  waddles  about  on  the  sides 
of  his  feet  to  show  his  bosses  what  he  means, 
and  turns  in  his  toes  like  a  clown. 

"  Well,  I  asked  the  sergeant  what  it  was 
all  about ;  but  he  wouldn't  tell  me.  And 
it  was  then  that  this  fellow  Spicer  began  to 
play  the  fool:  he  had  smelt  the  rat  himself, 
I  suppose.  He  made  a  still  greater  ass  of 
himself  at  the  fence,  where  the  blackfellow 
messed  about  a  long  time  over  Rigden's 

157 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

marks  when  we  got  back  there.  After  that 
we  all  came  marching  home,  or  rather  rid- 
ing hell-to-leather.  And  the  fun  became 
fast  and  furious ;  so  to  speak,  of  course ; 
for  I  needn't  tell  you  it  was  no  fun  for 
me,  Moya." 

"  Quite  sure  ?  Well,  never  mind ;  go 
on. 

"  There  was  no  end  of  a  row.  Harkness 
and  Myrmidons  entered  the  barracks,  and 
Spicer  ordered  them  out.  They  insisted  on 
searching  Rigden's  room.  Spicer  swore 
they  shouldn't,  and  appealed  to  me.  What 
could  I  do,  a  mere  visitor?  I  remonstrated, 
advised  them  to  wait,  and  so  forth ;  further 
resistance  would  have  been  arrant  folly  ;  yet 
that  madman  Spicer  was  for  holding  the  fort 
with  the  station  ordnance !  " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Moya  again :  she  had 
opened  her  lips  to  say  something  else,  but 
the  obvious  soundness  of  Theodore's  posi- 
tion came  home  to  her  in  time. 

"  Well,  the  long  and  short  of  it  is  that 
the  sergeant  came  to  me  on  the  verandah 
with  the  very  pair  of  boots  with  which  the 
tracks  had  been  made ;  a  heel  was  off  one 

158 


Bethune  v.  Bethune 

of  them ;  they  were  too  small  for  Rigden, 
yet  they  were  found  hidden  away  in  his 
room.  The  astounding  thing  is  that  the 
blessed  blackfellow  had  spotted  that  the 
tracks  were  not  made  by  the  man  to  whom 
the  boots  belonged.  He  had  turned  in  his 
toes  and  walked  on  the  outside  of  his  feet ; 
it  wasn't  so  with  the  trail  they  followed 
up  to  these  pines  yesterday ;  and  diamond 
had  cut  diamond  about  as  neatly  as  you 
could  wish  to  see  it  done.  It  was  smart  of 
Rigden  to  run  alongside  his  horse  and  make 
it  look  as  though  he  were  riding  alongside 
the  trail;  but  it  wouldn't  do  for  the  wily 
savage,  and  I'm  afraid  the  result  will  be 
devilish  unpleasant." 

There  was  no  fear,  however,  in  the  clean- 
cut  and  clean-shaven  face,  nor  did  Theo- 
dore's tone  suggest  any  possible  unpleas- 
antness to  him  or  his.  Moya  could  have 
told  him  so  in  a  manner  worthy  of  himself, 
but  again  she  showed  some  self-restraint, 
and  was  content  to  thank  him  briefly  for 
putting  her  in  possession  of  all  the  facts. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Theodore,  "  I  only  wish  I 
could  do  that !    You  talked  a  little  while  ago 

159 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

about  my  suspecting  the  truth ;  well,  I  give 
you  my  word  that  I  haven't  even  yet  the 
ghost  of  an  idea  what  the  real  truth  can 
be." 

"  You  mean  as  to  motive  ?  " 

"  Exactly.  Why  on  earth  should  he  risk 
his  all  to  save  the  skin  of  a  runaway  convict  ? 
What  can  that  convict  be  to  him,  Moya? 
Or  is  the  sole  explanation  mere  misplaced, 
chuckle-headed  chivalry?  " 

"  What  should  yoii  say  ?  "  asked  Moya 
quietly. 

"  I'll  tell  you  frankly,"  said  Theodore  at 
once ;  "  as  things  were  I  should  have  hesi- 
tated, but  as  things  are  there's  no  reason 
why  I  shouldn't  say  what  I  think.  It's  evi- 
dently some  relation  ;  a  man  only  does  that 
sort  of  thing  for  his  flesh  and  blood.  Now 
do  you  happen  to  remember,  when  this — I 
mean  to  say  that — engagement  was  more 
or  less  in  the  air,  that  some  of  us  rather 
wanted  to  know  who  his  father  was  ?  Not 
that " 

"  I  know,"  Moya  interrupted  ;  "  I'm  not 
likely  to  forget  it.  So  that's  what  you 
think,  is  it?" 

i6o 


Bethune  v.  Bethune 

"  I  do  ;  by  Jove  I  do  !  Wouldn't  you  say 
yourself " 

"  No,  I  wouldn't ;  and  no  more  need  you. 
What  are  your  ideas,  by  the  way,  if  this  is 
not  the  ghost  of  one?  I  congratulate  you 
upon  it  from  that  point  of  view,  if  from  no 
other !  " 

Theodore  stuck  a  fresh  cigarette  be- 
tween his  lips,  and  struck  the  match  with 
considerable  vigour.  It  is  not  pleasant 
to  be  blown  from  one's  own  petard,  or 
even  scathed  in  one's  own  peculiar  tone 
of  offence. 

"  I  simply  wanted  to  spare  your  feelings, 
my  dear  girl,"  was  the  rejoinder,  the  last 
three  words  being  thrown  in  for  the  special 
irritation  of  Moya.  "  Not  that  I  see  how 
it  can  matter  now." 

The  special  irritant  ceased  to  gall. 

"  Now !  "  echoed  Moya.  "  What  do  you 
mean  by  now  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  whole  thing's  off,  of  course." 

"What  whole  thing?" 

"  Your  late  engagement." 

"  Oh,  is  it !  Thanks  for  the  news ;  it's 
the  first  I've  heard  of  it." 

i6i 


The  Shadow  of  a   Man 

"  Then  it  won't  be  the  last.  You're  not 
going  to  marry  a  convict's  son,  or  a  convict 
either;  and  this  fellow  promises  to  be 
both." 

"  I  shall  marry  exactly  whom  I  like,"  said 
Moya,  trembling. 

"  Don't  flatter  yourself !  You  may  say  so 
out  of  bravado,  but  you're  the  last  person 
to  make  a  public  spectacle  of  yourself; 
especially  when — well,  you  know,  to  put  it 
brutally,  this  is  pretty  well  bound  to  ruin 
him,  whatever  else  it  does  or  does  not.  Be- 
sides, you  don't  like  him  any  more ;  you've 
stopped  even  thinking  you  do.  Do  you 
suppose  I've  got  no  eyes  ?  " 

"  Theodore,"  said  Moya  in  a  low  voice, 
"  if  I  were  your  wife  I'd  murder  you !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  you  wouldn't ;  and  meanwhile 
don't  talk  greater  rot  than  you  can  help, 
Moya.  Believe  me  it  isn't  either  the  time 
or  the  place.  We  must  get  out  of  the  place, 
by  the  way,  the  first  thing  to-morrow.  I 
see  you're  still  wearing  his  ring.  The  sooner 
you  take  that  off  and  give  it  to  me  to  return 
to  him  the  better." 

"  It  will  come  to  that,"  said  Moya's  heart ; 
162 


Bethune  v.  Bethune 

"  but  not  through  Theodore ;  no,  thank 
you !  " 

"  It  shall  never  come  to  it  at  all !  "  replied 
her  heart  of  hearts. 

And  her  lips  echoed  the  "  Never!  "  as  she 
marched  to  the  door.  Theodore  had  his 
foot  against  it  in  time. 

"  Now  listen  to  me !  No,  you're  not  go- 
ing till  you  listen  to  reason  and  me !  You 
may  call  me  a  brute  till  you're  black  in  the 
face.  I  don't  mind  being  one  for  your  own 
good.  This  thing's  coming  to  an  end ;  in 
fact  it's  come ;  it  ought  never  to  have 
begun,  but  I  tell  you  it's  over.  The  family 
were  always  agreed  about  it,  and  I'm  prac- 
tically the  head  of  the  family ;  at  all  events 
I'm  acting  head  up  here,  and  I  tell  you  this 
thing's  over  whether  you  like  it  or  not.  But 
you  like  it.  What's  the  good  of  pretending 
you  don't?  But  whether  you  do  or  you 
don't  you  shall  never  marry  the  fellow !  And 
now  you  know  it  you  may  go  if  you  like. 
Only  do  for  God's  sake  be  ready  in  the 
morning,  like  the  sane  person  you  always 
used  to  be." 

Moya  did  not  move  an  inch  towards  the 
163 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

opened  door.  Her  tears  were  dry;  fires 
leapt  in  their  stead. 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  Unless  you  wish  me  to  say  more." 

"  What  a  fool  you  are,  Theodore !  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I  distrust  expert  evidence." 

"  With  all  your  wits  you  don't  know  the 
first  thing  about  women !  " 

"  You  mean  that  you  require  driving  like 
Paddy's  pig?  Oh,  no,  you  don't,  Moya;  go 
and  sleep  upon  it." 

"Sleep!" 

It  was  one  burst  of  all  she  felt,  but  only 
one. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  won't,"  said  Theodore, 
with  more  humanity.  "  Still  it's  better  to 
lose  a  night  thinking  things  over,  calmly 
and  surely,  as  you're  very  capable  of  doing, 
than  to  go  another  day  with  that  ring  upon 
your  finger." 

Moya  stared  at  him  with  eyes  in  which 
the  fires  were  quenched,  but  not  by  tears. 
She  looked  dazed. 

"  Do  put  your  mind  to  it — your  own  sane 
mind !  "  her  brother  pleaded,  with  more  of 
wisdom  than  he  had  shown  with  her  yet. 

164 


Bethune  i'.  Bethune 

"  And — I  don't  want  to  be  hard — I  never 
meant  to  be  hard  about  this  again — but  God 
help  you  now  to  the  only  proper  and  sensi- 
ble decision !  " 

So  was  he  beginning  to  send  his  juries 
about  their  vital  business ;  and,  after  all, 
Moya  went  to  hers  with  as  much  docility  as 
the  twelve  good  men  and  true. 

Theodore  was  right  about  one  thing.  She 
must  put  her  mind  to  it  once  and  for  ever. 


165 


XII 

AN   ESCAPADE 

OHE  put  her  mind  to  it  with  character- 
istic thoroughness  and  honesty.  Let 
there  be  no  mistake  about  Moya  Bethune. 
She  had  faults  of  temper,  and  fauhs  of  tem- 
perament, and  as  many  miscellaneous  faults 
as  she  was  quick  to  find  in  others ;  but  this 
did  not  retard  her  from  seeing  them  in  her- 
self. She  was  a  little  spoilt ;  it  is  the  almost 
inevitable  defect  of  the  popular  qualities. 
She  had  a  good  conceit  of  herself,  and  a 
naughty  tongue ;  she  could  not  have  be- 
longed to  that  branch  of  the  Bethunes  and 
quite  escaped  either.  On  the  other  hand, 
she  was  not  without  their  cardinal  merits. 
There  was,  indeed,  a  brutal  honesty  in  the 
breed ;  in  Moya  it  became  a  singular  sin- 
cerity, not  always  pleasing  to  her  friends, 
but  counterbalanced  by  the  brightness  and 
charm  of  her  personality.    She  was  incapa- 

i66 


An  Escapade 

ble  of  deceiving  another;  infinitely  rarer, 
she  was  equally  incapable  of  deceiving  her- 
self; and  could  consider  most  things  from 
more  standpoints  than  are  accessible  to 
most  women,  always  provided  that  she  kept 
that  cornerstone  of  all  sane  judgment,  her 
temper.  She  had  lost  it  with  Rigden  and 
lost  it  with  Theodore,  and  was  in  a  pretty 
bad  temper  with  herself  to  boot ;  but  that  is 
a  minor  matter ;  it  does  not  drive  the  blood 
to  the  brain ;  it  need  not  obscure  every 
point  of  view  but  one.  And  there  were  but 
two  worthy  of  Moya's  consideration. 

There  was  her  own  point  of  view,  and 
there  was  Rigden's.  Moya  took  first  inn- 
ings ;  she  was  the  woman,  after  all. 

She  began  with  the  beginning  of  this  visit 
— this  visit  that  the  almanac  pretended  was 
but  fifty  hours  old  after  all  these  days  and 
nights :  Well,  to  believe  it,  and  go  back  to 
the  first  night :  they  had  been  happy  enough 
then,  still  happier  next  day,  happiest  of  all 
in  the  afternoon.  Moya  could  see  the 
shadows  and  feel  the  heat,  and  hear  Rigden 
wondering  whether  she  would  ever  care  for 
the  place,  and  her  own  light-hearted  replies ; 

167 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

but  there  she  checked  herself,  and  passed 
over  the  memorable  end  of  that  now  memo- 
rable conversation,  and  took  the  next  phase 
in  due  order. 

Of  course  she  had  been  angry ;  anybody 
of  any  spirit,  similarly  placed,  would  have 
resented  being  deserted  by  the  hour  to- 
gether for  the  first  wayfarer.  And  the  lie 
made  it  worse ;  and  the  refusal  to  explain 
matters  made  the  lie  incalculably  worse. 
He  had  put  her  in  an  abominable  position, 
professing  to  love  her  all  the  time.  How 
could  she  believe  in  such  love?  Love  and 
trust  were  inseparable  in  her  mind.  Yet  he 
had  not  trusted  her  for  a  moment;  even 
when  she  stooped  to  tell  a  lie  herself,  to 
save  him,  even  then  he  could  not  take  her 
into  his  confidence.  It  was  the  least  he 
could  have  done  after  that ;  it  was  the  very 
least  that  she  had  earned. 

Most  of  the  next  day  —  to-day !  —  even 
Moya  shirked.  Why  had  it  laid  such  a  hold 
upon  her — the  bush — the  bush  life — the 
whole  thing?  Was  it  the  mere  infection 
of  a  real  enthusiasm  ?  Or  was  it  but  the 
meretricious  glamour  of  the  foregone,  and 

i68 


An  Escapade 

would  the  fascination  have  been  as  great  if 
all  had  still  been  well?  Moya  abandoned 
these  points ;  they  formed  a  side  issue  after 
all.  Her  mind  jumped  to  the  final  explana- 
tion— still  ringing  in  her  ears.  It  was  im- 
measurably worse  than  all  the  rest,  in 
essence,  in  significance,  in  result.  The  re- 
sult mattered  least ;  there  was  little  weak- 
ness in  Moya  ;  she  would  have  snapped  her 
fingers  at  the  world  for  the  man  she  loved. 
But  how  could  she  forgive  his  first  deceit, 
his  want  of  trust  in  her  to  the  end?  And 
how  could  she  think  for  another  moment 
of  marrying  a  man  whom  she  could  not 
possibly  forgive? 

She  did  not  think  of  it.  She  relinquished 
her  own  point  of  view,  and  tried  with  all  her 
honesty  to  put  herself  in  his  place  instead. 

It  was  not  very  difficult.  The  poverty- 
stricken  childhood  (so  different  from  her 
own !)  with  its  terrible  secret,  its  ever-hidden 
disgrace ;  small  wonder  if  it  had  become 
second  nature  to  him  to  hide  it !  Then  there 
was  the  mother.  Moya  had  always  loved 
him  for  the  tone  of  his  lightest  reference  to 
his  mother.    She  thought  now  of  the  irrep- 

169 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

arable  loss  of  that  mother's  death,  and  felt 
how  she  herself  had  sworn  in  her  heart  to 
repair  it.  She  thought  of  their  meeting,  his 
sunburnt  face,  the  new  atmosphere  he 
brought  with  him,  their  immediate  engage- 
ment :  the  beginning  had  come  almost  as 
quickly  as  the  end !  Then  Moya  darkened. 
She  remembered  how  her  people  had  tried 
to  treat  him,  and  how  simply  and  sturdily 
he  had  borne  himself  among  them.  Where- 
as, if  he  had  told  them  all  .  .  .  but  he 
might  have  told  her ! 

Yet  she  wondered.  The  father  was  as 
good  as  dead,  was  literally  dead  to  the 
world;  partly  for  his  sake^  perhaps,  the 
secret  had  been  kept  so  jealously  all  these 
years  by  mother  and  son.  Moya  still 
thought  that  an  exception  should  have  been 
made  in  her  case.  But,  on  mature  reflec- 
tion, she  was  no  longer  absolutely  and  final- 
ly convinced  of  this.  And  the  mere  shado  v 
of  a  doubt  upon  the  point  was  her  first  com- 
fort in  all  these  hours. 

Such  was  the  inner  aspect ;  the  outward 
and  visible  was  grave  enough.  It  was  one 
thing  to  be  true  to  a  prisoner  and  a  pris- 

170 


An  Escapade 

oner's  son,  but  another  thing  to  remain  en- 
gaged to  him.  Moya  was  no  hand  at 
secrets.  And  now  she  hated  them.  So  her 
mind  was  made  up  on  one  point.  If  she 
forgave  him,  then  no  power  should  make 
her  give  him  up,  and  she  would  wear  his 
ring  before  all  her  world,  though  it  were 
the  ring  of  a  prisoner  in  Pentridge 
Stockade.  But  she  knew  what  that  would 
mean,  and  a  brief  spell  of  too  vivid  fore- 
sight, which  followed,  cannot  be  said  to 
have  improved  Rigden's  chances  of  for- 
giveness. 

There  was  one  thing,  however,  which 
Moya  had  unaccountably  forgotten.  This 
was  the  sudden  inspiration  which  had  come 
to  her  an  hour  ago,  among  the  station  pines. 
She  was  reminded  of  it  and  of  other  things 
by  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Duncan  with  a  tray ; 
she  had  even  forgotten  that  her  last  meal 
had  been  made  in  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon, at  the  rabbiter's  camp.  Mrs.  Duncan 
had  discovered  this  by  questioning  young 
Ives,  and  the  tea  and  eggs  were  the  result 
of  a  consultation  with  Mr.  Bethune. 

"  And  after  that,"  smiled  Moya,  "  you  will 
171 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

leave  me  for  the  night,  won't  you?  I  feel 
as  if  I  should  never  want  to  get  up  again !  " 

"  I'm  sure  you  do,  my  dear,"  the  good 
woman  cried. 

"  I  shall  lock  my  door,"  said  Moya. 
"  Don't  let  anybody  come  to  me  in  the 
morning ;  beg  my  brother  not  to  come." 

"  Indeed  I'll  see  he  doesn't." 

And  Mrs.  Duncan  departed  as  one  who 
had  been  told  little  but  who  guessed  much, 
with  a  shake  of  her  head,  and  a  nod  to  follow 
in  case  there  was  nothing  to  shake  it  over ; 
for  she  was  entirely  baffled. 

Moya  locked  the  door  on  her. 

"  To  think  I  should  have  forgotten !  My 
one  hope — my  one  !  " 

And  she  ate  every  morsel  on  the  tray; 
then  undressed  and  went  properly  to  bed, 
for  the  sake  of  the  rest.  But  to  sleep  she 
was  afraid,  lest  she  might  sleep  too  long. 
And  between  midnight  and  dawn,  she  was 
not  only  up  once  more,  but  abroad  by  her- 
self in  the  darkest  hour. 

Her  door  she  left  locked  behind  her; 
the  key  she  pushed  underneath ;  and  she 
stepped  across  the  verandah  with  her  riding 

172 


An  Escapade 

habit  gathered  up  in  one  hand,  and  both 
shoes  clutched  in  the  other. 

"  It  is  dreadful !  I  am  as  bad  as  he  is. 
But  I  can't  help  it.  There's  nobody  else  to 
do  it  for  me — unless  I  tell  them  first.  And 
at  least  I  can  keep  his  secret !  " 

The  various  buildings  lay  vague  and 
opaque  in  the  darkness :  not  a  spark  of  light 
in  any  one  of  them.  And  the  moon  had  set ; 
the  stars  alone  lit  Moya  to  the  horse-yard. 

Luckily  she  was  not  unused  to  horses. 
She  not  only  had.  her  own  hack  at  home,  but 
made  a  pet  of  it  and  kept  her  eye  upon  the 
groom.  A  single  match,  blown  out  in  an 
instant,  showed  Moya  the  saddle  and  bridle 
which  she  had  already  used,  with  a  water- 
bag  hanging  hard  by,  in  the  hut  adjoining 
the  yard.  The  bag  she  filled  from  the  tank 
outside.  The  rest  was  an  even  simpler 
matter;  a  rocking-horse  could  not  have 
stood  quieter  than  the  bony  beast  which 
Ives  had  left  behind  with  the  night-horse. 

It  proved  a  strong  and  stolid  mount,  with 
a  hard,  unyielding,  but  methodical  canter, 
and  only  one  bad  habit :  it  shaved  trees  and 
gateposts  a  little  too  closely  for  a  rider  un- 

173 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

accustomed  to  the  bush.  Moya  was  near 
disaster  at  the  start ;  thereafter  she  allowed 
for  the  blemish,  and  crossed  Butcher-boy 
without  mishap. 

It  was  now  the  darkest  quarter  of  the 
darkest  hour ;  and  Moya  was  quite  thankful 
that  she  had  no  longer  a  track  to  follow  or 
to  lose.  For  in  Big  Bushy  she  turned 
sharply  to  the  left,  as  in  the  morning  with 
young  Ives,  and  once  more  followed  the 
fence ;  but  this  time  she  hugged  it,  and  was 
not  happy  unless  she  could  switch  the  wires 
to  make  certain  they  were  there. 

It  was  lighter  when  she  reached  the  first 
corner :  absolute  blackness  had  turned  to  a 
dark  yet  transparent  grey  ;  it  was  as  though 
the  ink  had  been  watered ;  but  in  a  little  it 
was  ink  no  more.  Moya  turned  in  her  sad- 
dle, and  a  broadening  flail  of  bloodshot  blue 
was  sweeping  the  stars  one  by  one  out  of 
the  eastern  sky. 

Also  Moya  felt  the  wind  of  her  own 
travelling  bite  shrewdly  through  her  sum- 
mer blouse ;  and  she  put  a  stop  to  the 
blundering,  plodding  canter  about  half-way 
down  the  east-and-west  fence  whose  eastern 

174 


An  Escapade 

angle  contained  the  disused  whim  and 
hut. 

It  was  no  longer  necessary  to  switch  the 
wires ;  even  the  Hne  of  trees  in  Blind  Man's 
Block  had  taken  shape  behind  them ;  and 
that  sinister  streak  soon  stood  for  the  last 
black  finger-mark  of  the  night. 

Further  down  the  fence  a  covey  of  crows 
got  up  suddenly  with  foul  outry ;  and 
Moya,  remembering  the  merino  which  had 
fallen  by  the  way,  steeled  her  body  once 
more  to  the  bony  one's  uneasy  canter. 

The  beast  now  revealed  itself  a  dapple- 
grey  ;  and  at  last  between  its  unkempt  ears, 
and  against  the  slaty  sky  to  westward,  Moya 
described  the  timbers  of  the  whim. 

She  reined  in  again,  her  bent  head 
puzzling  over  what  she  should  say. 

And  again  she  cantered,  the  settled  words 
upon  her  lips ;  but  there  they  were  destined 
to  remain  until  forgotten ;  for  it  was  at  this 
point  that  Moya's  adventure  diverged  alike 
from  her  purpose  and  her  preconception. 

In  the  first  place  the  hut  was  empty.  It 
took  Moya  some  minutes  to  convince  her- 
self of  the  fact.    Again  and  again  she  called 

175 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

upon  the  supposed  occupant  to  come  out 
declaring  herself  a  friend  come  to  warn  him, 
as  indeed  she  had.  At  last  she  dismounted 
and  entered,  her  whip  clutched  firmly,  her 
heart  in  her  mouth.  The  hut  was  without 
partition  or  inner  chamber.  A  glance 
proved  it  as  empty  as  it  had  seemed. 

Moya  was  nonplussed :  all  her  plans  had 
been  built  upon  the  supposition  that  she 
should  find  the  runaway  still  skulking  in 
the  hut  where  she  had  seen  him  the  previous 
forenoon.  She  now  perceived  how  ground- 
less her  supposition  had  been ;  it  seemed 
insane  when  she  remembered  that  the  run- 
away had  as  certainly  seen  her — and  her 
sudden  flight  at  sight  of  him.  Unquestion- 
ably she  had  made  a  false  start.  Yet  she 
did  not  see  what  else  she  could  have  done. 

She  led  her  horse  to  the  whim  itself. 
Twin  shafts  ran  deep  into  the  earth,  side  by 
side  like  the  barrels  of  a  gun.  But  this  whim 
was  finally  forsaken ;  the  long  rope  and  the 
elaborate  buckets  had  been  removed  and 
stored ;  and  the  slabbed  shafts  ended  in 
tiny  glimmering  squares  without  break  or 
foot-hole  from  brink  to  base. 

176 


An  Escapade 

Moya  stood  still  to  think ;  and  very  soon 
the  thought  of  the  black  tracker  put  all 
others  out  of  court.  It  came  with  a  sigh: 
if  only  she  had  him  there  !  He  would  think 
nothing  of  tracking  the  fugitive  from  the 
hut  whithersoever  his  feet  had  carried  him ; 
was  it  only  the  blacks  who  could  do  such 
things  ? 

How  would  he  begin?  Moya  recalled 
her  brother's  description,  and  thought  she 
knew.  He  would  begin  by  riding  down  the 
fence,  and  seeing  if  anybody  had  crossed  it. 

She  was  doing  this  herself  next  minute. 
And  the  thought  that  had  come  with  a  sigh 
had  already  made  her  heart  beat  madly,  and 
the  breath  come  quicker  and  quicker 
through  her  parted  lips ;  but  not  with  fear ; 
she  was  much  too  excited  to  feel  a  conscious 
qualm.  Besides,  she  had  somehow  no  fear 
of  the  unhappy  man,  his  father. 

Excitement  flew  to  frenzy  when  she 
actually  found  the  place.  She  knew  it  on 
the  instant,  and  was  never  in  doubt.  There 
were  several  footmarks  on  either  side  of  the 
fence ;  on  the  far  side  a  vertebrate  line  of 
them,  pointing  plainly  to  the  scrub ;   even 

177 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

her  unskilled  eye  could  follow  it  half  the 
way. 

The  next  thing  was  to  strap  down  the 
•wires,  but  Moya  could  not  wait  for  that. 
She  galloped  to  a  gate  that  she  had  seen 
in  the  corner  near  the  whim,  and  came  up 
the  other  side  of  the  fence  also  at  a  gallop. 

The  trail  was  easily  followed  to  the  scrub : 
among  the  trees  the  ground  was  harder  and 
footprints  proportionately  faint.  By  dis- 
mounting, however,  and  dropping  her 
handkerchief  at  each  apparent  break  of  the 
chain,  Moya  always  succeeded  in  picking 
up  the  links  eventually.  Now  they  gave  her 
no  trouble  for  half-an-hour ;  now  a  check 
would  last  as  long  again ;  but  each  half- 
hour  seemed  like  five  minutes  in  her  ex- 
citement. The  trees  grew  thicker  and 
thicker,  but  never  any  higher.  Their 
branches  swept  the  ground  and  interlaced; 
and  many  were  the  windings  of  the  faint 
footmarks  tenaciously  followed  by  Moya 
and  the  dapple-grey.  They  were  as  divers 
wandering  on  the  bed  of  a  shallow  sea  ;  for 
all  its  shallowness,  the  patches  of  sunlight 
were  fewer  and  fewer,  and  farther  between ; 

178 


An  Escapade 

if  they  were  also  hotter,  Moya  did  not  notice 
the  difference.  She  did  not  realize  into 
what  a  labyrinth  she  was  penetrating.  Her 
entire  attention  was  divided  between  the  last 
footprint  and  the  next ;  she  had  none  over 
for  any  other  consideration  whatsoever.  It 
was  an  extreme  instance  of  the  forcing  of 
one  faculty  at  the  expense  of  all  the  rest. 
Moya  thought  no  more  even  of  what  she 
should  say  when  she  ran  her  man  to  earth. 
She  had  decided  all  that  before  she  reached 
the  hut.  No  pang  of  hunger  or  of  thirst 
assailed  her;  excitement  and  concentration 
were  her  meat  and  drink. 

Yet  when  the  end  came  her  very  first 
feeling  was  that  of  physical  faintness  and 
exhaustion.  But  then  it  was  an  exceedingly 
sudden  and  really  terrifying  end.  Moya  was 
dodging  boles  and  ducking  under  branches, 
the  dapple-grey  behind  her,  her  arm 
through  the  reins,  when  all  at  once  these 
tightened.  Moya  turned  quickly,  thinking 
the  horse  was  unable  to  follow. 

It  was. 

A  gnarled  hand,  all  hair  and  sinew,  held 
it  by  the  bridle. 

179 


XIII 

BLIND    man's   block 

T  T  was  some  moments  before  Moya  looked 
higher  than  that  hand,  and  it  prepared 
her  for  a  worse  face  than  she  found  wait- 
ing for  her  own.  The  face  was  fierce 
enough,  and  it  poured  a  steady  fire  upon  the 
girl  from  black  eyes  blazing  in  the  double 
shade  of  a  felt  wideawake  and  the  overhang- 
ing mallee.  But  it  was  also  old,  and  lined, 
and  hunted ;  the  man  had  grown  grey  in 
prison ;  whatever  his  ofifences,  there  was 
rare  spirit  in  a  last  dash  for  freedom  at  his 
age.  Moya  had  not  thought  so  before. 
She  was  surprised  that  she  should  think  it 
now.  The  last  thing  that  she  had  expected 
to  feel  was  an  atom  of  real  sympathy  with 
the  destroyer  of  her  happiness.  And  yet  it 
was  the  first  thing  she  felt. 

"  Please  don't  look  at  me  like  that,"  she 
begged.     "  I  wish   you  no  harm,  believe 

me!" 

i8o 


Blind  Man's  Block 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  a  first  stern 
question. 

"  Who  sent  you  here?  " 

"  Nobody." 

"Rot!" 

"  It's  the  truth." 

"  How  else  did  you  find  me  ?  " 

"  I  saw  you  yesterday  in  the  hut ;  you 
know  that ;  you  saw  me." 

"  This  is  not  the  hut." 

"  No,  but  as  you  weren't  there  I  looked 
for  your  tracks.  And  I  found  them.  And 
here  I  am." 

Shaggy  brows  rose  above  the  piercing 
eyes. 

"  I  thought  you  didn't  come  from  the 
bush?" 

"  Nor  do  I ;  but  I  have  heard  a  good  deal 
about  tracking,  this  last  day  or  two ;  and  I 
had  luck." 

"  You've  come  all  this  way  alone  ?  " 

"  Absolutely." 

"  Then  nobody  else  knows  anything 
about  it.  That's  certain.  But  they  will 
know!  You'll  be  followed,  and  I  shall  be 
found ! " 

i8i 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  I  don't  think  so ;  they'll  think  I've  gone 
somewhere  else." 

The  convict  gave  her  a  long  look,  and  his 
hawk's  eye  gleamed ;  then  he  turned  his 
attention  to  the  dapple-grey.  It  was  over  a 
minute  before  he  spoke  again. 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ? "  he  then 
asked. 

"  Captain  Bovill." 

He  smiled  wickedly. 

"And  nothing  else?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Moya,  sadly ;  "I  know 
what  else  you  are,  of  course.    His  father !  " 

"  So  he's  had  the  pluck  to  tell  you,  after 
all?" 

"  He  should  have  told  me  at  once." 

"And  lost  you?" 

"  He  hasn't  lost  me  yet !  "  cried  Moya  im- 
pulsively, but  from  her  loyal  heart  none  the 
less. 

"  Then  why  break  away  from  him  like 
this  ?    Wasn't  his  word  good  enough  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  broken  away,"  said  Moya, 
"  from  him.  I  couldn't.  I've  come  to  tell 
you  why.    They've  taken  him  to  prison !  " 

"  Taken  him! " 

182 


Blind  Man's  Block 

"  On  your  account.  They  know  he 
helped  you.    That's  all  they  do  know." 

The  convict  stared ;  but,  in  the  perpetual 
twilight  of  the  mallee  that  was  the  only  fact 
to  which  Moya  could  have  sworn.  She 
could  make  nothing  of  the  old  man's  ex- 
pression. When  he  spoke,  however,  there 
was  no  mistaking  his  tone.  It  was  hard  and 
grim  as  a  prison  bell. 

"  In  his  turn !  "  said  he.  "  Well,  it'll  teach 
him  what  it's  like." 

"  But  it  isn't  his  turn,"  cried  Moya,  in  a 
fury ;  "  what  has  he  done  to  deserve  such 
degradation,  except  a  good  deal  more  than 
his  duty  by  you  ?  And  this  is  all  the  thanks 
he  gets !  As  though  he  had  taken  after  you ! 
How  can  you  speak  like  that  of  him  ?  How 
dare  you — to  me  ?  " 

So  Moya  could  turn  upon  the  whilom 
terror  of  a  colony,  a  desperado  all  his  days, 
yet  surely  never  more  desperate  than  now ; 
and  her  rings  flashed,  and  her  eyes  flashed, 
and  there  was  no  one  there  to  see !  No  soul 
within  many  miles  but  the  great  criminal 
before  her,  whose  turn  it  was  to  astonish 
Moya.     He  uncovered ;    he  jerked  a  bow 

183 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

that  was  half  a  shrug,  but  the  more  convinc- 
ing for  the  blemish  ;  and  thereafter  hung  his 
cropped  head  in  strange  humility. 

"  You're  right !  "  said  he.  "  I  deserve  all 
you've  said,  and  more.  He  has  treated  me 
ten  thousand  times  better  than  I  deserve, 
and  that's  my  gratitude !  Yet  if  you  had 
been  half  a  lifetime  in  the  hulks — in  irons — 
chained  down  like  a  wild  beast — why,  you'd 
he  one,  even  you !  " 

"  I  know,"  said  Moya  in  a  low  voice.  "  It 
is  terrible  to  think  of  !  " 

"  And  God  bless  you  for  admitting  that 
much,"  the  old  man  whined,  "  for  it's  few 
that  will.  Break  the  law,  and  the  law  breaks 
you — on  a  wheel !  Talk  about  the  wrongs 
of  prisoners ;  they  have  neither  wrongs  nor 
rights  in  the  eyes  of  the  law ;  it's  their  own 
fault  for  being  prisoners,  and  that's  the  last 
word." 

"  It  is  very  terrible,"  said  Moya  again. 

"  Ah,  but  you  little  know  how  bad  it  is ; 
and  I'm  not  going  to  tell  you.  It's  worse 
than  your  worst  dreams,  and  that  must  do 
for  you.  The  floggings,  the  irons,  the  soH- 
tary  confinement   in  your  irons  with  the 

184 


Blind  Man's  Block 

blood  running  down  your  back !  No,  I  said 
I  wouldn't,  and  I  won't.  But  it's  hard  to 
hold  your  tongue  when  you're  talking  to  a 
lady  for  the  first  time  in  thirty  years.  And 
to  think  of  a  young  lady  like  you  coming  all 
this  way,  alone  too,  to  say  a  kind  word  to  a 
double-dyed  old  rogue  like  me!  It's  the 
most  wonderful  thing  I  ever  heard  of  in  all 
my  days.  I  can't  think  why  you  did  it,  for 
the  life  of  me  I  can't !  " 

"  It  was  to  tell  you  about  your  son," 
Moya  reminded  him. 

"  Ah,  poor  fellow !  God  help  him,  for  I 
can't." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  ?  "  said  Moya  gently, 
and  for  once  rather  nervously  as  well. 

"  Sure  ?  Of  course  I'm  sure !  Why,  what 
can  I  do  ?  "  cried  the  other,  with  sudden  irri- 
tation as  suddenly  suppressed.  "  Hiding — 
hunted — with  every  hand  against  me  but 
yours — I'd  help  him  if  I  could,  but  I  can't." 

"  So  he's  to  go  to  prison  instead  of  you?  " 

Moya  spoke  quietly,  but  with  the  more 
effect ;  indeed,  she  was  herself  beginning  to 
feel  surprised  at  her  success  with  a  des- 
perate man  in  vital  straits.     He  was  more 

185 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

amenable  than  she  had  imagined  possible. 
That  he  should  parley  with  her  at  all  was 
infinite  encouragement.  But  now  there 
came  a  pause. 

"  I  see  what  you're  driving  at,"  he  cried 
savagely  at  last.  "  You  want  me  to  give 
myself  up !    I'll  see  you — further." 

The  oath  was  dropped  at  the  last  moment 
— another  strange  sign — but  the  tone  could 
not  have  been  stronger.  Yet  the  mere  fact 
that  he  had  seen  her  point,  and  made  it  for 
her,  filled  Moya  with  increasing  confidence. 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  she  had  the  tact  to  say. 
"  How  could  you  be  expected  to  go  back — 
to  that — of  your  own  free  will?  And  yet 
what  can  be  worse  than  waiting — waiting 
till " 

"  I'm  taken,  eh?  Is  that  what  you  want 
to  say?  They  shall  never  take  me  alive, 
curse  them  ;  don't  you  trouble  about  that !  " 

The  tone  was  stubborn,  ferocious,  blood- 
curdling, but  at  least  it  was  in  keeping  with 
the  blazing  eyes  and  the  great  jowl  beneath. 
Moya  looked  steadily  at  the  bushranger,  the 
mutineer,  the  indomitable  criminal  of  other 
days ;  more  remained  of  him  than  she  had 

1 86 


Blind  Man's  Block 

fancied.     And  to  think  that  he  had  soft 
answers  for  her ! 

She  made  haste  to  earn  another, 
"  Please — please — don't  speak  like  that ! 
It  is  dreadful.     And  I  feel  sure  there  is 
some  middle  course." 

"  I'm  no  beHever  in  middle  courses !  " 
"  That  I  know.    Yet— you  have  suffered 
so — I  feel  sure  something  could  be  done! 
I — that    is    my    people — have    influence — 

money " 

"  They  can  keep  their  money." 
Moya  begged  his  pardon.    It  was  not  an 
act  in  which  she  excelled.     Yet  nothing 
could  have  been  sweeter  than  her  confusion, 
nothing  finer  than  her  frank  humility. 

"  I  was  only  wondering  if  there  was  any- 
thing— anything — we  could  any  of  us  do! 
It  would  be  understood  so  well.  His  father  I 
Surely  that  would  be  enough !  I  know  the 
Governor.  I  would  think  nothing  of  going 
to  him.  I  honestly  believe  that  he  would 
pardon  you  both  !  " 

Moya  felt  the  black  eyes  burning,  and  for 
once  her  own  eyes  fell ;  indeed  she  was  a 
wondrous  picture  of  beauty  and  youth  and 

187 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

enthusiasm,  there  in  that  place,  in  her  dainty 
blouse  and  habit,  with  the  dull  green  mallee 
above  and  all  around  her.  But  they  were  a 
yet  more  extraordinary  pair,  the  old  bush- 
ranger of  a  bygone  day,  and  the  Melbourne 
beauty  of  the  present. 

"  So  you  believe  that,  do  you  ?  "  said  the 
former  sardonically. 

"  From  the  bottom  of  my  heart." 

"  Suppose  you  were  wrong?  " 

"  I  would  move  heaven  and  earth." 

"  Then  jump  on  your  horse !  " 

"Why?" 

"  I'm  coming  with  you — to  the  police- 
barracks  ! " 

It  was  like  a  dream.  Moya  could  have 
rubbed  her  eyes,  and  soon  had  to  do  so,  for 
they  were  full  of  tears.  She  sobbed  her 
thanks ;  she  flung  out  both  hands  to  press 
them  home.  The  convict  waited  grimly  at 
her  horse's  head. 

"  Better  wait  and  see  what  comes  of  it," 
said  he.  "  And  think  yourself  lucky  worse 
hasn't  come  of  it  yet !  I'm  not  thinking  of 
myself;  do  you  know  where  you  are?  Do 
you  know  that  this  is  Blind  Man's  Block? 

1 88 


Blind  Man's  Block 

Haven't  you  heard  about  it?  Then  you 
should  thank  your  stars  you've  a  good  old 
bushman  to  lead  you  out;  for  it's  like 
getting  out  of  a  maze,  I  can  tell  you  ;  and  if 
you'd  been  warned,  as  I  was,  I  don't  think 
you'd  have  ventured  in." 

Moya  had  never  realised  that  it  was  into 
Blind  Man's  Block  she  had  plunged  so 
rashly.  Nor  did  the  discovery  disturb  her 
now.  She  was  too  full  of  her  supreme 
triumph  to  dwell  for  many  moments  upon 
any  one  of  the  risks  that  she  had  run  for  its 
accomplishment.  Neither  did  she  look  too 
far  ahead.  She  would  keep  faith  with  this 
poor  creature ;  no  need  to  count  the  cost 
just  yet.  Moya  set  her  mind's  eye  upon 
the  reunion  at  the  police-barracks:  her 
advent  as  the  heroine  of  a  bloodless  victory, 
her  intercession  for  the  father,  her  meeting 
with  the  son. 

The  prospect  dazzled  her.  It  had  its 
gravely  precarious  aspect.  But  one  thing 
at  a  time.  She  had  done  her  best ;  no 
ultimate  ill  could  come  of  it ;  of  that  she 
felt  as  certain  as  of  the  fact  that  she  was 
sitting  in  her  saddle  and  blindly  following 

189 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

an  escaped  criminal  through  untrodden 
wilds. 

Suddenly  she  discovered  that  she  was  not 
doing  this  exactly.  She  had  not  consciously 
diverged,  and  yet  her  leader  was  bearing 
down  upon  her  with  a  scowl. 

"Why  don't  you  follow  me?"  he  cried. 
"  Do  you  want  to  get  bushed  in  Blind  Man's 
Block?" 

"  I  wasn't  thinking,"  replied  Moya.  "  It 
must  have  been  the  horse." 

Bovill  seized  the  bridle. 

"  It's  a  fool  of  a  horse !"  said  he.  "  Why, 
we're  quite  close  to  the  fence,  and  it  wants 
to  head  back  into  the  middle  of  the  block !  " 

Moya  remarked  that  she  did  not  recog- 
nise the  country. 

"  Of  course  you  don't,"  was  the  reply. 
"  You  came  the  devil  of  a  round,  but  I'm 
taking  you  straight  back  to  the  fence.  Trust 
an  old  hand  like  me ;  I  can  smell  a  fence  as 
a  sheep  smells  water.  You  trust  yourself  to 
me!" 

Moya  had  already  done  so.  It  was  too 
late  to  reconsider  that.  Yet  she  did  begin 
to  wonder  somewhat  at  herself.    That  hairy 

190 


Blind  Man's  Block 

hand  upon  the  bridle,  it  lay  also  rather 
heavily  on  her  nerves.  And  the  mallee 
shrub  showed  no  signs  of  thinning;  the 
open  spaces  were  as  few  as  ever,  and  as 
short ;  on  every  hand  the  leaves  seemed 
whispering  for  miles  and  miles. 

"  We're  a  long  time  getting  to  that  fence," 
said  Moya  at  length. 

The  convict  stopped,  looked  about  him 
in  all  directions,  and  finally  turned  round. 
In  doing  so  his  right  hand  left  the  bridle, 
but  in  an  instant  the  other  was  in  its  place. 
Moya,  however,  was  too  intent  upon  his  face 
to  notice  this. 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  missed  it,"  said  he 
calmly. 

"Missed  the  fence?" 

"  It  looks  like  it." 

"After  what  you  said  just  now?  Oh, 
what  a  fool  I  was  to  trust  you !  " 

Their  eyes  were  joined  for  the  next  few 
seconds ;  then  the  man's  face  relaxed  in  a 
brutal  grin.  And  Moya  began  to  see  the 
measure  of  her  folly. 

"  Hypocrite  !  "  she  gasped. 

"  Don't  call  names,  my  dear.  It's  not 
191 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

kind,  especially  to  your  father-in-law  that  is 
to  be!" 

Moya  shuddered  in  every  member  except 
the  hand  that  gripped  her  whalebone  switch. 
The  gold-mounted  handle  was  deep  in  her 
flesh. 

"  Leave  go  of  my  bridle,"  she  said 
quietly. 

"  Not  just  yet,  my  dear." 

The  whalebone  whistled  through  the  air, 
and  came  slashing  down  upon  the  dapple- 
grey's  neck,  within  an  inch  of  the  hairy 
fingers,  which  were  nevertheless  snatched 
away.  Moya  had  counted  on  this  and  its  re- 
sult. The  animal  was  off  at  its  best  pace ; 
but  the  desperate  hands  grabbed  Moya's 
habit  as  it  passed,  and  in  another  instant 
she  was  on  the  ground.  In  yet  another  she 
had  picked  herself  up,  but  she  never  even 
looked  for  the  horse ;  she  fixed  her  eye 
upon  her  loathly  adversary  as  on  a  wild 
beast ;  and  now  he  looked  nothing  else,  with 
canine  jaw  and  one  vile  lip  protruding,  and 
hell's  own  fire  in  his  wicked  eyes. 

Luckily  her  grip  of  the  riding-whip  had 
tightened,  not  relaxed ;  but  now  she  held  it 

192 


Blind  Man's  Block 

as  a  sword ;  and  it  helped  her  to  cow  a 
brute  who  had  the  real  brute's  dread  of  the 
lash.  But  also  she  was  young  and  supple, 
and  the  man  was  old.  The  contrast  had 
never  been  so  sharp ;  for  now  they  were 
both  in  their  true  colours ;  and  every  vile- 
ness  of  the  one  was  met  by  its  own  antithesis 
in  the  other.  It  was  will  against  will,  per- 
sonality against  personality,  in  an  open  space 
among  the  m.allee  and  the  full  glare  of  a 
climbing  sun,  mile  upon  mile  from  human 
help  or  habitation.  And  the  battle  was 
fought  to  a  finish  without  a  word. 

Moya  only  heard  a  muttering  as  the 
wretch  swung  round  upon  his  heel,  and 
walked  after  the  dapple-grey,  which  had 
come  to  a  standstill  within  sight.  But  she 
was  not  done  with  the  blackguard  yet.  She 
watched  him  remove  the  lady's  saddle,  then 
carefully  detach  the  water-bag,  and  sling 
it  about  himself  by  means  of  the  stirrup- 
leather.  Then  he  mounted,  bare-back  ;  but 
Moya  knew  that  he  would  not  abandon  her 
without  his  say;  and  she  was  waiting  for 
him  with  the  self-same  eye  that  had  beaten 
him  off. 

193 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

He  reined  up  and  cursed  her  long  and 
filthily.  Her  ear  was  deaf  to  that ;  but  Httle 
of  it  conveyed  the  slightest  meaning;  her 
unchanged  face  declared  as  much.  So  then 
he  trimmed  his  tongue  accordingly. 

"  Sorry  to  take  the  water-bag ;  but 
through  you  I've  forgot  mine  and  my  swag 
too.  Better  try  and  find  'em  ;  they're  away 
back  where  I  camped  last  night;  you're 
welcome  to  the  drop  that's  left,  if  there  is 
one.  You  look  a  bit  black  about  the  gills 
as  it  is.  Have  a  drop  to  show  there's  no  ill- 
feeling  before  I  go." 

And  he  dangled  the  bag  before  her,  mean- 
ing to  whisk  it  back  again.  But  Moya  dis- 
appointed him.  She  was  parched  with 
thirst,  though  she  only  realised  it  now.  She 
neither  spoke  nor  moved  a  muscle. 

"  Then  die  of  thirst,  and  be  damned  to 
you !  Do  you  know  where  you  are  ?  Blind 
Man's  Block— Blind  Man's  Block!  Don't 
you  forget  it  again,  because  I  shan't  be  here 
to  remind  you ;  a  horse  was  what  I  wanted, 
and  was  promised,  so  you're  only  keeping 
that  poor  devil's  word  for  him.  Give  him 
my  blessing  if  you  ever  see  him  again ;  but 

194 


Blind  Man's  Block 

you  never  will.  They  say  it's  an  easy  place 
to  die  in,  this  here  Blind  Man's  Block,  but 
you'll  see  for  yourself.  A  nice  little  corpse 
we'll  make,  won't  we?  But  we'll  die  and 
rot  the  same,  and  the  crows'll  have  our 
eyes  for  breakfast  and  our  innards  for  din- 
ner! And  do  you  good,  you  little  white 
devil,  you !  " 

Moya  remained  standing  in  the  same 
attitude,  with  the  same  steady  eye  and  the 
same  marble  pallor,  long  after  the  monster 
disappeared,  and  the  last  beat  of  the  dapple- 
grey's  hoofs  was  lost  among  the  normal 
wilds  of  the  bush.  Then  all  at  once  a  great 
light  leapt  to  her  face.  But  it  was  not  at 
anything  that  she  had  heard  or  seen ;  it  was 
at  something  which  had  come  to  her  very 
suddenly  in  the  end.  And  for  a  long  time 
after  that,  though  lost  and  alone  in  Blind 
Man's  Block,  and  only  too  likely  to  die  the 
cruel  death  designed  for  her,  Moya  Bethune 
was  a  happier  woman  than  she  had  been  for 
many  an  hour. 


195 


XIV 

HIS   OWN   COIN 

"pOOO-EEE!" 

^^  It  was  a  far  cry  and  faint,  so  faint 
that  Moya  was  slow  to  believe  her  ears.  She 
had  not  stirred  from  the  scene  of  her  late  en- 
counter, but  this  inactivity  was  not  without 
design.  Moya  was  tired  out  already ;  she 
had  too  much  sense  to  waste  her  remain- 
ing strength  upon  the  heat  of  the  day.  She 
found  the  chewing  of  leaves  avert  the  worst 
pangs  of  thirst,  so  long  as  she  remained  in 
the  shade,  and  there  she  determined  to  rest 
for  the  present.  Sooner  or  later  she  would 
be  followed  and  found,  and  the  fewer  her 
wanderings,  the  quicker  and  easier  that 
blessed  consummation.  Her  plight  was  still 
perilous  enough,  and  Moya  did  not  blink 
this  fact  any  more  than  others.  Yet  an- 
other fact  there  was,  of  which  she  was  finally 

196 


His  Own  Coin 

convinced,  though  she  had  yet  to  prove  it ; 
meanwhile  the  mere  conviction  was  her  stay 
and  comfort.  She  was  gloating  over  it,  a 
leaf  between  her  dry  lips,  and  her  aching 
body  stretched  within  reach  of  more  leaves, 
when  she  thought  she  heard  the  coo-ee. 

She  sat  up  and  listened.  It  came  again. 
And  this  time  Moya  was  sure. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  and,  deliverance 
within  hail,  realised  her  danger  for  the  first 
time  fully.  Sunburnt  hands  put  a  trembling 
trumpet  to  her  lips,  and  out  came  a  clearer 
call  than  had  come  to  Moya. 

The  answer  sounded  hoarse,  and  was  as 
far  away  as  ever ;  but  prompt  enough ;  and 
now  Moya  was  as  sure  of  the  direction  as 
of  the  sound  itself.  Nor  had  she  occasion 
to  coo-ee  any  more.  For  the  first  thing  she 
saw,  perhaps  a  furlong  through  the  scrub, 
was  a  riderless  horse,  bridled  but  unsaddled, 
with  a  forefoot  through  the  reins. 

True  to  its  unpleasant  habit,  the  dapple- 
grey  had  done  noble  service  to  the  human 
race,  by  swerving  under  a  branch  at  full 
gallop,  and  scraping  its  rider  into  space. 

The  wretch  lay  helpless  in  the  sun,  with 
197 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

a  bloody  forehead  and  an  injured  spine. 
Moya's  water-bag  had  fallen  clear,  and  lay 
out  of  his  reach  by  a  few  inches  which  were 
yet  too  many  for  him  to  move.  He  de- 
manded it  as  soon  as  she  came  up,  but  with 
an  oath,  and  Moya  helped  herself  first, 
drinking  till  her  hands  came  close  together 
upon  the  wet  canvas. 

"  Now  you  can  finish  it,"  she  said,  "  if 
you're  such  a  fool.  I've  left  you  more  than 
you  deserve." 

He  cursed  her  hideously,  and  a  touch  of 
unmerited  compassion  came  upon  her  as 
she  discovered  how  really  helpless  he  was. 
So  she  held  his  head  while  he  drained  the 
last  drop,  and  as  it  fell  back  he  cursed  her 
again,  but  began  whining  when  she  made 
off  without  a  word. 

"  My  back  must  be  broken — I've  no  feel- 
ing in  my  legs.  And  you'd  let  me  die 
alone ! " 

"  Your  own  coin,"  said  Moya,  turning  at 
her  distance. 

"  It  wasn't.  I  swear  it  wasn't.  I  swear 
to  God  I  was  only  doing  it  to  frighten  you ! 
I  was  going  for  help." 

198 


His  Own  Coin 

"How  can  you  tell  such  lies?"  asked 
Moya  sternly. 

"  They're  not,  they're  the  solemn  truth, 
so  help  me  God !  " 

"  You're  only  making  them  worse ;  own 
they  are  Hes,  or  I'm  off  this  minute." 

"  Oh,  they  are  then,  damn  you !  " 

Only  the  oath  was  both  longer  and 
stronger. 

"  Swear  again,  and  it  won't  be  this 
minute,  it'll  be  this  very  second !  "  cried 
Moya  decisively.  "  So  own,  without  swear- 
ing, that  you  did  mean  me  to  die  of  thirst,  so 
far  as  you  were  concerned." 

"  You  never  would  have  done  it,  though ; 
they'll  be  on  your  track  by  this  time." 

"  That  may  be.  It  doesn't  alter  what  you 
did." 

"  I  offered  you  a  drink,  didn't  I  ?  It  was 
my  only  chance  to  take  the  horse  and  the 
water-bag.  I  meant  to  frighten  you,  but 
that's  all.  And  now  I'm  half  mad  with  pain 
and  heat ;  you'd  swear  yourself  if  you  were 
in  my  shoes ;  and  I  can't  even  feel  I've  got 
any  on !  " 

Moya  drew  a  little  nearer, 
199 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  Nearer,  miss — nearer  still !  Come  and 
stand  between  me  and  the  sun.  Just  for  a 
minute !    It's  burning  me  to  hell !  " 

Moya  took  no  notice  of  the  word,  nor  yet 
of  the  request. 

"  Before  I  do  any  more  for  you,"  said  she, 
"  you  must  tell  me  the  truth." 

"  I  have !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  you  haven't :  not  the  particular 
truth  I  want  to  know.  I  know  it  already. 
Still  I  mean  to  hear  it  from  you.  It's  the 
truth  on  quite  a  different  matter;  that's 
what  I  want,"  said  Moya,  and  stood  over  the 
poor  devil  as  he  desired,  so  that  at  last  the 
sun  was  ofT  him,  though  now  he  had  Moya's 
eyes  instead.  "  I — I  wonder  you  can't 
guess — what  I've  guessed !  "  she  added 
after  a  pause. 

But  she  also  wondered  at  something  else, 
for  in  that  pause  the  blood-stained  face  had 
grown  ghastlierthanbefore,and  Moya  could 
not  understand  it.  The  man  was  so  sorely 
stricken  that  recapture  must  now  be  his 
liveHest  hope:  why  then  should  he  fear  a 
discovery  more  or  less  ?  And  it  was  quite  a 
little  thing  that  Moya  thought  she  had  dis- 

200 


His  Own  Coin 

covered ;  a  little  thing  to  him,  not  to  her ; 
and  she  proceeded  to  treat  it  as  such. 

"  You  know  you're  not  Captain  Bovill  at 
all,"  she  told  him,  in  the  quiet  voice  of  abso- 
lutely satisfied  conviction. 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  "  he  roared,  half 
raising  himself  for  the  first  time,  and  the 
fear  and  fury  in  his  eyes  were  terrible  to  see. 

"  Nobody." 

"  Ah !  " 

"  But  I  know  it  all  the  same.  I've  known 
it  this  last  half-hour.  And  if  I  hadn't  I 
should  know  it  now.  I  see  it — where  I 
ought  to  have  seen  it  from  the  first — in  your 
face." 

"  You  mean  because  my  son's  not  the 
dead  spit  of  his  father  ?  But  he  never  was ; 
he  took  after  his  mother ;  he'll  tell  you  that 
himself." 

"  It's  not  what  I  meant,"  said  Moya, 
"  though  it  is  through  the  man  you  call  your 
son  that  I  know  he  is  nothing  of  the  kind. 
His  father  may  have  been  a  criminal ;  he 
was  something  else  first ;  he  would  not  have 
left  a  woman  to  perish  of  thirst  in  the  bush, 
a  woman  who  had  done  him  no  harm — who 

201 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

only  wished  to  befriend  him — who  was  go- 
ing to  marry  his  son !  " 

There  were  no  oaths  to  this;  but  the 
black  eyes  gleamed  shrewdly  in  the  blood- 
stained face,  and  the  conical  head  wagged 
where  it  lay. 

"  You  never  were  in  the  hulks,  you  see," 
said  the  convict ;  "  else  you'd  know.  No 
matter  what  a  man  goes  in,  they  all  come 
out  alike,  brute  beasts  every  one.  I'm  all 
that,  God  help  me !  But  I'm  the  man — I'm 
the  man.  Do  you  think  he'd  have  held  out 
a  finger  to  me  if  I  hadn't  been?  " 

"  I've  no  doubt  you  convinced  him  that 
you  were." 

"  How  can  one  man  convince  another 
that  he's  his  father  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  only  know  that  you 
have  done  it." 

"  Why,  he  knew  me  at  once !  " 

"  Nonsense !  He  had  never  seen  you  be- 
fore ;  he  doesn't  remember  his  father." 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  hasn't  seen  pictures, 
and  heard  plenty  ?  No,  no ;  all  the  rest's  a 
true  bill ;  but  Captain  Bovill  I've  lived,  and 
Captain  Bovill  I'm  going  to  die." 

202 


His  Own  Coin 

Moya  looked  at  him  closely.  She  could 
not  help  shuddering.  He  saw  it,  and  the 
fear  of  death  laid  hold  of  him,  even  as  he 
sweltered  in  the  heat. 

"  With  a  lie  on  your  lips  ?  "  said  Moya, 
gravely. 

"  It's  the  truth !  " 

"  You  know  it  isn't.  Own  it,  for  your 
own  sake !  Who  can  tell  how  long  I  shall 
be  gone  ?  " 

"  You  shan't  go !  You  shan't  go !  "  he 
snarled  and  whined  at  once.  And  he 
clutched  vainly  at  her  skirts,  the  effort  leav- 
ing him  pale  as  death,  and  in  as  dire  an 
agony. 

"  I  must,"  said  Moya.  "  There's  the 
horse;  the  saddle's  quite  near;  you  shall 
have  all  the  help  that  I  can  bring  you,  with 
all  the  speed  that's  possible." 

She  moved  away,  and  the  ruthless  sun 
played  on  every  inch  of  him  once  more. 

"I'm  burning — burning!"  he  yelled. 
"  Have  I  been  in  hell  upon  earth  all  these 
years  to  go  to  hell  itself  before  I  die  ?  Move 
me,  for  Christ's  sake  !  Only  get  me  into  the 
shade,  and  I'll  confess — I'll  confess !  " 

203 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

Moya  tried ;  but  it  was  terrible ;  he 
shrieked  with  agony,  foaming  at  the  mouth, 
and  beating  her  off  with  feeble  fists.  So 
then  she  flung  herself  bodily  on  an  infant 
hop-bush,  and  actually  uprooted  it.  And 
with  this  and  some  mallee-branches  she 
made  a  gunyah  over  him,  though  he  said  it 
stifled  him,  and  complained  bitterly  to  the 
end.  At  the  end  of  all  Moya  knelt  at  his 
feet. 

"  Now  keep  your  promise." 

"  What  promise  ? "  he  asked  with  an 
oath,  for  Moya  had  been  milder  than  her 
word. 

"  You  said  you  would  confess." 

"  Confess  what?  "  he  cried,  a  new  terror 
in  his  eyes.  "  I'm  not  going  to  die !  I  don't 
feel  like  dying !    I've  no  more  to  confess !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  have — that  you're  not  his 
father — nor  yet  Captain  Bovill." 

"  But  I  tell  you  I  am.  Why — "  and 
the  pallid  face  lit  up  suddenly — "  even  the 
police  know  that,  and  you  know  that  they 
know  it !  " 

It  was  a  random  shot,  but  it  made  a  visible 
mark,   for   in    her   instinctive   certainty   of 

204 


His  Own  Coin 

the  main  fact  Moya  was  only  now  reminded 
that  Rigden  himself  had  told  her  the  same 
thing.  Her  discomfiture,  however,  was  but 
momentary ;  she  held  obstinately  to  her  in- 
tuition. The  police  might  know  it.  She 
knew  better  than  the  police;  and  looking 
upon  their  quarry,  and  going  over  every- 
thing as  she  looked,  came  in  a  flash  upon  a 
fresh  theory  and  a  small  fact  in  its  support, 

"  Then  they  don't  know  who  it  is  they're 
after !  "  cried  Moya.  "  You're  not  even 
their  man ;  his  eyes  were  brown ;  it  was  in 
the  description ;  but  yours  are  the  blackest 
I  ever  saw." 

It  was  not  a  good  point.  He  might  well 
make  light  of  it.  But  it  was  enough  for 
Moya  and  her  woman's  instinct ;  or  so  she 
said,  and  honestly  thought  for  the  moment. 
She  was  less  satisfied  when  she  had  caught 
the  horse  and  still  must  hear  the  mangled 
man  ;  for  he  railed  at  her,  from  the  gunyah 
she  had  built  him,  to  the  very  end.  And  to 
Moya  it  seemed  that  there  was  more  of 
triumph  than  of  terror  in  his  tone. 


205 


XV 

THE    FACT   OF   THE   MATTER 

CERGEANT  HARKNESS  had  his  bar- 
racks  to  himself.  To  be  sure,  the  cell 
was  occupied ;  but,  contrary  to  the  usual 
amenities  of  the  wilderness,  such  as  euchre 
and  Christian  names  between  the  sergeant 
and  the  ordinary  run  of  prisoners,  with  this 
one  Harkness  would  have  nothing  to  do. 
It  was  a  personal  matter  between  them  :  the 
capital  charge  had  divided  them  less.  Con- 
stable and  tracker  had  meanwhile  been 
called  out  on  fresh  business.  That  was  in 
the  middle  of  the  day.  Since  then  the  coach 
had  passed  with  the  mail ;  and  Harkness 
had  been  pacing  his  verandah  throughout 
the  sleepiest  hour  of  the  afternoon,  only 
pausing  to  read  and  re-read  one  official  com- 
munication, when  Moya's  habit  fluttered 
into  view  towards  four  o'clock. 

206 


The  Fact  of  the  Matter 

"  Well,  I'm  dished !  "  exclaimed  the  ser- 
geant.   "  And  alone,  too,  after  all !  " 

He  hastened  to  meet  her. 

"  Where  on  earth  have  you  been.  Miss 
Bethune?  Do  you  know  there's  another 
search-party  out,  looking  for  you  this  time  ? 
My  sub  and  the  tracker  were  fetched  this 

morning.    I'd  have  gone  myself  only " 

and  he  jerked  a  thumb  towards  a  very  small 
window  at  one  end  of  the  barracks. 

"  Mr,  Rigden  ?  "  said  Moya,  lowering  her 
voice. 

"  Yes." 

"  So  you've  got  him  still !  I'm  glad  ;  but 
I  don't  want  him  to  know  I'm  here.  Stay — 
does  he  think  I'm  lost?  " 

"  No.  I  thought  it  better  not  to  tell 
him." 

"  That  was  both  wise  and  kind  of  you, 
Sergeant  Harkness !  He  must  know  noth- 
ing just  yet.    I  want  to  speak  to  you  first." 

And  she  urged  the  dapple-grey,  now 
flagging  sorely,  towards  the  other  end  of  the 
building ;  but  no  face  appeared  at  the  little 
barred  window ;  for  Rigden  was  sound 
asleep  in  his  cell. 

207 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  We're  all  right,"  said  Moya,  sliding  to 
the  ground ;  "  we  stopped  at  a  tank  and  a 
boundary-rider's  hut,  but  not  the  Eureka 
boundary.  I  didn't  get  out  the  same  way  I 
got  in,  you  see — I  mean  out  of  the  Blind 
Man's  Block." 

"  Blind  Man's  Block !  Good  God !  have 
you  been  there  ?  You're  lucky  to  have  got 
out  at  all !  " 

"  It  wasn't  easy.  I  thought  we  should 
never  strike  a  fence,  and  when  we  did  I  had 
to  follow  it  for  miles  before  there  was  a  gate 
or  a  road.  But  the  boundary-rider  was  very 
kind ;  he  not  only  gave  me  the  best  meal  I 
ever  had  in  my  life ;  he  set  me  on  the  road  to 
you." 

Indeed  the  girl  was  glowing,  though 
dusty  and  dishevelled  from  head  to  foot. 
Her  splendid  colouring  had  never  been 
more  radiant,  nor  had  the  bewildered  ser- 
geant ever  looked  upon  such  brilliant  eyes. 
But  it  was  a  feverish  brilliance,  and  a  glance 
would  have  apprised  the  skilled  observer  of 
a  brain  in  the  balance  between  endurance 
and  suspense. 

"  What  on  earth  were  you  doing  in  Blind 
208 


The  Fact  of  the  Matter 

Man's     Block?"    asked     Harkness,     sus- 
piciously. 

"  I'll  tell  you.  I'll  tell  you  something 
else  as  well!  But  first  you  must  tell  me 
something,  Sergeant  Harkness." 

"  I  believe  you  know  where  he  is,"  quoth 
the  sergeant,  softly. 

"  Do  you  know  who  he  is  ?  "  cried  Moya, 
coming  finely  to  her  point. 

Harkness  stared  harder  than  ever. 

"  Well,  I  thought  I  did— until  this  after- 
noon." 

"  Who  did  you  think  it  was  ?  " 

"  Well,  there's  no  harm  in  saying  now. 
Rightly  or  wrongly,  I  only  told  Mr.  Rigden 
at  the  time.  But  I  always  thought  it  was 
Captain  Bovill,  the  old  bushranger  who 
escaped  from  Pentridge  two  or  three  weeks 
ago." 

"  Then  you  thought  wrong,"  said  Moya, 
boldly. 

Nevertheless  she  held  her  breath. 

"  So  it  seems,"  growled  the  sergeant. 

"  Why  does  it  seem  so?  " 

It  was  a  new  voice  crying,  and  one  so 
tremulous  that  Harkness  could  scarcely 
recognise  it  as  Miss  Bethune's. 

209 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 


I've  heard  officially- 


"  What  have  you  heard  ?  " 

"  You  see  we  were  all  informed  of  Bovill's 
escape." 

"Goon!    Goon!" 

"  So  in  the  same  way  we've  been  advised 
of  his  death." 

"His— death!" 

"  Steady,  Miss  Bethune !  There — allow 
me.  We'll  get  in  out  of  the  sun ;  he  won't 
hear  us  at  this  end  of  the  verandah.  Here's 
a  chair.  That's  the  ticket!  Now,  just  one 
moment." 

He  returned  with  something  in  a  glass 
which  Moya  thought  sickening.  But  it  did 
her  good.  She  ceased  giggling  and  weep- 
ing by  turns  and  both  at  once. 

"  So  he's  dead — he's  dead !  Have  you 
told  Mr.  Rigden  that?" 

"No;  I'm  not  seeing  much  of  Mr. 
Rigden." 

"  I  am  glad.  I  will  tell  him  myself,  pres- 
ently.   You  will  let  me,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Surely,  Miss  Bethune.  There's  no 
earthly  reason  why  he  should  be  here,  ex- 
cept his  own  obstinacy,  if  you'll  excuse  my 

210 


The  Fact  of  the  Matter 

saying  so.  He  was  remanded  this  morn- 
ing; but  Mr.  Cross  of  Strathavon,  who 
signed  the  warrant  yesterday,  and  came  over 
for  the  examination  this  forenoon,  not  only 
wanted  to  take  bail,  but  offered  to  find  it 
himself.  Wanted  to  carry  him  olT  in  his 
own  buggy,  he  did !  But  Mr.  Rigden  said 
here  he  was,  and  here  he'd  stick  until  his 
fate  was  settled.  Would  you  like  to  see 
him  now?  " 

"  Presently,"  repeated  Moya.  "  I  want  to 
hear  more ;  then  I  may  have  something  to 
tell  you.  When  and  where  did  this  death 
occur,  and  what  made  you  so  sure  that  it 
was  the  dead  man  who  came  to  Eureka? 
You  will  understand  my  questions  in  a 
minute." 

"  Only  I  must  answer  them  first,"  said  the 
sergeant,  smiling.  "  I  am  to  give  myself 
clean  away,  am  I  ?  " 

"  We  must  all  do  that  sometimes.  Ser- 
geant Harkness.  It  will  be  my  turn  directly. 
Let  us  trust  each  other," 

Harkness  looked  into  her  candid  eyes, 
calmer  and  more  steadfast  for  their  recent 
tears,  and  his  mind  was  made  up. 

211 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  I'll  trust  you,"  he  said ;  "  you  may  do 
as  you  like  about  me.  Perhaps  you  your- 
self have  had  the  wish  that's  father  to  the 
thought,  or  rather  the  thought  that  comes  of 
the  wish  and  nothing  else  ?  Well,  then, 
that's  what's  been  the  matter  with  me.  The 
moment  I  heard  of  that  old  rascal's  escape, 
like  every  other  fellow  in  the  force,  I 
yearned  to  have  the  taking  of  him.  Of 
course  it  wasn't  on  the  cards,  hundreds  of 
miles  up-country  as  we  are  here,  besides  be- 
ing across  the  border;  yet  when  they  got 
clear  away,  and  headed  for  the  Murray, 
there  was  no  saying  where  they  might  or 
might  not  cast  up.  Well,  it  seems  they  never 
reached  the  Murray  at  all ;  but  last  week 
down  in  Balranald  I  heard  a  rum  yarn  about 
a  stowaway  aboard  one  of  the  Echuca  river- 
steamers  ;  they  never  knew  he  was  aboard 
until  they  heard  him  go  overboard  just  the 
other  side  of  Balranald.  Then  they  thought 
it  was  one  of  themselves,  until  they  mus- 
tered and  found  none  missing;  and  then 
they  all  swore  it  was  a  log,  except  the  man 
at  the  wheel  who'd  seen  it ;  so  I  pretended 
to  think  with  the  rest — but  you  bet  I  didn't ! 

212 


The  Fact  of  the  Matter 

I  went  down  the  river  on  the  off-chance, 
but  I  never  let  on  who  I  hoped  it  might  be. 
And  what  with  a  swaggy  whose  swag  had 
been  stolen,  and  his  description  of  the  man 
who  he  swore  had  stolen  it,  I  at  last  got  on 
the  tracks  of  the  man  I've  lost.  He  was  said 
to  be  an  oldish  man ;  that  seemed  good 
enough;  they  were  both  of  them  oldish 
men,  the  two  that  had  escaped." 

"  The  two  !  "  cried  Moya  in  high  excite- 
ment. "  The  two  !  I  keep  forgetting  there 
were  two  of  them ;  you  see  you  never  said 
so  when  you  came  to  the  station," 

"  I  wanted  to  keep  it  all  to  myself,"  con- 
fessed the  crest-fallen  sergeant.  "  I  only 
told  two  living  m.en  who  I  thought  it  was 
that  I  was  after.  One  was  my  sub — who 
guessed — and  the  other  was  Mr.  Rigden." 

"  Were  the  two  men  who  escaped  any- 
thing Hke  each  other?" 

"  Well,  they  were  both  old  lags  from  the 
Success,  and  both  superior  men  at  one  time ; 
old  particulars  who'd  been  chained  together, 
as  you  might  say,  for  years ;  and  I  suppose 
that  sort  of  thing  does  beat  a  man  down  into 
a  type.    However,  their  friendship  didn't  go 

213 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

for  much  when  they  got  outside ;  for  Gipsy 
Marks  murdered  Captain  Bovill  as  sure  as 
emu's  eggs  are  emu's  eggs  !  " 

"  Murdered  him  !  "  gasped  Moya ;  and 
her  brain  reeled  to  think  of  the  hours  she 
had  spent  with  the  murderer.  But  all  was 
clear  to  her  now,  from  the  way  in  which 
Rigden  had  been  imposed  upon  in  the  be- 
ginning, to  the  impostor's  obstinate  and  ter- 
rified refusal  to  own  himself  as  such  to  the 
very  end, 

"  Yes,  murdered  him  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Murray ;  the  body's  only  just  been 
found ;  and  meanwhile  the  murderer's 
slipped  through  my  fingers,"  said  the  ser- 
geant, sourly ;  "  for  if  it  wasn't  poor  old 
Bovill  I  was  after,  at  all  events  it  was  Gipsy 
Marks." 

Moya  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  It  was,"  she  cried ;  "  but  he  hasn't 
slipped  through  your  fingers  at  all,  unless 
he's  dead.  He  wasn't  when  I  left  him  two 
or  three  hours  ago." 

"When  you  left  him?" 

"  Yes,  I  found  him,  and  was  with  him  all 
the  morning." 

214 


The  Fact  of  the  Matter 

"In  Blind  Man's  Block  — with  that 
ruffian?" 

"  He  took  my  horse  and  my  water-bag, 
and  left  me  there  to  die  of  thirst ;  but  the 
dear  horse  turned  the  tables  on  him — ^poor 
wretch !  " 

"  And  you  never  told  me !  " 

"  I  am  trying  to  tell  you  now." 

And  he  let  her  finish. 

But  she  would  not  let  him  go. 

"  Dear  Sergeant  Harkness,  I  can't  pre- 
tend to  have  an  ounce  of  pity  left  for  that 
dreadful  being  in  Blind  Man's  Block.  A 
murderer,  too!  At  least  I  have  more  pity 
for  some  one  else,  and  you  must  let  me 
take  him  away  before  you  go." 

"  Impossible,  my  dear  young  lady — that 
is,  before  communicating  with  Mr.  Cross." 

"About  bail?" 

"  Yes." 

"  What  was  the  amount  named  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"  Fifty  pounds." 

"  Give  me  a  sheet  of  paper  and  a  stamp, 
and  I'll  write  a  cheque  myself." 

Harkness  considered. 
215 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  Certainly  that  could  be  done,"  he  said 
at  len^h. 

"  Then  quickly — quickly !  " 

Yet  even  when  it  was  done  she  detained 
him ;  even  when  he  put  a  big  key  into  her 
hand. 

"  Must  this  go  further — ^before  the  magis- 
trates— after  you  have  found  him  ?  " 

Harkness  hardened. 

"  The  offence  is  the  same.  I'm  afraid  it 
must." 

"  It  will  make  it  very  unpleasant  for  me," 
sighed  Moya,  "  when  I  come  up  here.  And 
when  I've  found  him  for  you — and  undone 
anything  that  was  done — though  I  don't 
admit  that  anything  was — I — well,  I  really 
think  you  might! " 

"Might  what?" 

"  Withdraw  the  charge !  '* 

"  But  those  tracks  weren't  his.  Mr. 
Rigden  made  them.  He  shouldn't  have 
done  that." 

"  Of  course  he  shouldn't — if  he  did." 

"  But  of  course  he  did,  Miss  Bethune. 
I've  known  Mr.  Rigden  for  years ;  we  used 
to  be  very  good  friends.    I  shouldn't  speak 

2l6 


The  Fact  of  the  Matter 

as  I  do  unless  I  spoke  by  the  book.  But — 
why  on  earth  did  he  go  and  do  a  thing  Hke 
that  ?  " 

Moya  paused. 

"  If  I  tell  you  will  you  never  tell  a  soul?  " 

"  Never,"  said  the  rash  sergeant. 

"  Then  he  was  imposed  upon.  The 
wretch  pretended  he — had  some  claim — I 
cannot  tell  you  what.  I  can  tell  you  no 
more." 

It  was  provokingly  little  to  have  to  keep 
secret  for  lifetime ;  yet  Harkness  was  glad 
to  hear  even  this. 

"  It  was  the  only  possible  sort  of  explana- 
tion," said  he. 

"  But  it  won't  explain  enough  for  the 
world,"  sighed  Moya,  so  meaningly  that  the 
sergeant  asked  her  what  she  did  mean. 

"  I  must  really  get  off,"  he  added. 

"  Then  I'll  be  plain  with  you,"  cried  the 
girl.  "  Either  you  must  withdraw  this 
charge,  and  pretend  that  those  tracks  were 
genuine,  or  I  can  never  come  up  here  to 
live !  " 

And  she  looked  her  loveliest  to  em- 
phasise the  threat. 

217 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  I  must  see  Mr.  Rig-den  about  that,"  was, 
however,  all  that  Harkness  would  vouch- 
safe. 

"  Very  well !  That's  only  fair.  Mean- 
while— I — trust  you,  Sergeant  Harkness. 
And  I  never  yet  trusted  the  wrong  man !  " 

That  was  Moya's  last  word. 

It  is  therefore  a  pity  that  it  was  not 
strictly  true. 

•  •  •  • 

It  was  a  wonderful  ride  they  had  together, 
that  ride  between  the  police-barracks  and 
the  station,  and  from  drowsy  afternoon  into 
cool  sweet  night.  The  crickets  chirped 
their  welcome  on  the  very  boundary,  and 
the  same  stars  came  out  that  Moya  had 
seen  swept  away  in  the  morning,  one  by  one 
again.  Then  the  moon  came  up  with  a 
bound,  but  hung  a  little  as  though  caught 
in  some  pine-trees  on  the  horizon,  that 
seemed  scratched  upon  its  disc.  And  Moya 
remarked  that  they  were  very  near  home, 
with  such  a  wealth  of  tenderness  in  the 
supreme  word  that  a  mist  came  over 
Rigden's  eyes. 

"  Thank  God,"  said  he,  "  that  I  have  lived 
218 


The  Fact  of  the  Matter 

to  hear  you  call  it  so,  even  if  it  never  is 
to  be." 

"  But  it  is— it  is.    Our  own  dear  home !  " 

"  We  shall  see." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  darling?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  Theodore  the  whole 
thing." 

"  After  I've  taken  such  pains  to  make  it 
certain  that  none  of  them  need  ever  know  a 
word?" 

"  Yes ;  he  shall  know ;  he  can  do  what  he 
thinks  fit  about  letting  it  go  any  further." 

Moya  was  silent  for  a  little. 

"  You're  right,"  she  said  at  last.  "  I  know 
Theodore.  He'll  never  breathe  it ;  but  he'll 
think  all  the  more  of  you,  dearest." 

"  I  owe  it  to  him.  I  owe  it  to  you  all, 
and  to  myself.  I  am  not  naturally  a  fraud, 
Moya." 

"  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  very  natural 
not  to  speak  of  such  a  thing." 

"  But  it  was  wrong.  I  knew  it  at  the  time. 
Only  I  could  not  risk " 

Moya  touched  his  lips  with  her  switch. 

"  Hush,  sir !  That's  the  one  part  I  shall 
never — quite — forgive." 

219 


The  Shadow  of  a  Man 

"  But  you  have  taught  me  a  lesson.  I 
shall  never  keep  another  thing  back  from 
you  in  all  my  life  !  " 

"  And  I  will  never  be  horrid  to  you  again, 
darling!  But  of  course  there  will  be  ex- 
ceptions to  both  rules ;  to  yours  because 
there  are  some  things  which  wouldn't  be  my 
business  (but  this  wasn't  one  of  them) ;  to 
mine,  because — well — we  none  of  us  have 
the  tempers  of  angels." 

"But  you  have  been  my  good  angel 
already — and  more — so  much  more  !  " 

They  came  to  the  home-paddock  gate. 
The  moon  was  high  above  the  pines. 
Underneath  there  were  the  lesser  lights, 
the  earthly  lights,  but  all  else  was  celestial 
peace. 

"  I  hope  they're  not  looking  for  me  still," 
said  Moya. 

"  If  they  are  I  must  go  and  look  for 
them." 

"  I  won't  let  you.  It's  too  sweet — the 
pines — the  moonlight — everything." 

They  rode  up  to  the  homestead,  with  each 
roof  beaming  to  the  moon. 

220 


The  Fact  of  the  Matter 

"  Not  much  of  a  place  for  the  belle  of 
Toorak,"  sighed  Rigden. 

"  Perhaps  not.  But,  of  all  places,  the 
place  for  me !  " 

"  You're  as  keen  as  Ives,"  laughed 
Rigden  as  he  helped  her  to  dismount. 
"  And  I  was  so  afraid  the  place  would 
choke  you  ofif  1  " 


221 


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